


Irish Gothic

by mrs_leary (julie)



Series: An Unusual Arrangement [2]
Category: Merlin (TV) RPF, Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gothic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-09
Updated: 2010-09-09
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:06:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The story is set in 1815. Colin Elliot and Captain Bradley Wentworth have been living together for a year now, in a quiet village in Shropshire. Everyone except Bradley’s brother Edward assumes they are two bachelor friends, but they are actually lovers – a relationship that puts them in grave danger, as a conviction for sodomy carries the death penalty. While they are happy together, they are very aware of their fragile safety. Colin is contentedly established as the village schoolteacher. Bradley hasn’t had a posting all year, and is growing restless. At last he receives orders to take command of a new ship. But in Bradley’s absence, Colin is even more vulnerable – particularly when his cousin Aidan (Viscount Dalrymple) arrives, determined that Colin will go to Ireland with him as his companion…</p>
            </blockquote>





	Irish Gothic

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings:** This fic contains: three recounted ghost stories; an attempted rape, only deterred by threat of violence; the recounting of a sexually sadistic murder; and a death that involves the actions of another person, but is intended as suicide. However, if it makes any difference, this is all told in a Gothic rather than a gritty–realistic style…
> 
>  **Notes:** Written for the Merlin RPF Big Bang Challenge 2010.  
>  ♦ I borrowed the details of the second ghost story from ‘The Mezzotint’, a tale by M R James. The others, for better or worse, are my own.  
> ♦ With many thanks to **gealach_ros** for prompting the original fic, and to **oconel** for being the first to suggest a sequel. The very notion of _Persuasion 2_ was such a delicious shock to the system!

♦

[](http://s737.photobucket.com/albums/xx15/mrs_leary/fic/irishgothic/header_leary.jpg)

 **IRISH GOTHIC** ,  
A ROMANCE;

 **BY MRS LEARY** ,  
Author of An Unusual Arrangement, etc.

Interspersed with some pieces of art  
 **BY SPIKESSIRE** ,

IN FIVE CHAPTERS.

 _I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word  
Would harrow up thy soul._

### Chapter One

‘I have a story for you, sir.’

‘Do you indeed?’ said Colin Elliot, smiling at his favourite charge. Teachers were not supposed to have favourites, of course, but it seemed inevitable that it be so. ‘Well,’ he asked the rest of the class – a motley collection of farmers’ and tradesmen’s sons and daughters, ranging in age from six to thirteen, along with a scattering of children from the poorer families – ‘shall we have Percival’s story, or shall we have the next part of _The Pilgrim’s Progress_?’

In response, there was some decisiveness in favour of each option but also much wavering between them.

‘It’s a ghost story,’ added Percival.

That decided the matter. Colin replaced the bookmark in the current volume of Bunyan, and put it aside for the following afternoon. ‘I believe you have our undivided attention.’

Percival got up and came to the lectern at the front of the class. Nevertheless, he began by addressing Colin. ‘It’s about your house, sir. The house you share with Captain Wentworth.’

‘A ghost story about my own home?’ Colin wondered whether he really wanted to know, but the rest of the audience were already waiting open–mouthed for the delectable details. ‘Heavens above. Do continue, then.’

‘Murder has been done there, sir.’

‘Oh,’ said Colin in a rather small voice. He reflected on the matter for a moment, and opened his mouth to perhaps divert Percival from his course – but it was already too late.

‘A hundred years ago, a farmer of this parish built the house, and then he married the girl he called his sweetheart, and brought his bride there. They were happy enough together, but there were never any children. The farmer was stricken that he didn’t have no sons of his own, and he began to be distracted and neglectful. And so after a while, the wife felt free to choose a sweetheart of her own, the handsomest of the farmhands. One day the farmer came home for his supper, and he found them a–kissing, like, in the kitchen.’

Colin surveyed the young faces before him. Most were rapt, though some were twisted as if the thought of kissing was akin to tasting lemons.

‘And the farmer was stricken for the second time. And he was filled with great wroth. So he grasped his great hoe and stove in the man’s head.’

Gasps greeted this sudden violence. Colin was sure they’d all heard worse tales while sharing their family meals, but he glanced at Percival to indicate, _Not too many gruesome details, thank you,_ and received a subtle nod in reply.

‘ _What have you done? What have you done?_ the wife cried. _He was my love._ To which the farmer replied, _Never mind that. What are we going to do now?_ Because, o’ course, they had to hide the body.’

‘Bury it in the fields!’ suggested one eager listener.

‘Yeah, the farmhand can, like, _fertilise_ the crops.’

‘Nah… the only thing bodies are good for growin’ is nettles.’

 _Nettles,_ thought Colin – not doubting the fact of the matter for a moment, but wondering whence a child could have gleaned such knowledge.

‘ _So_ ,’ said Percival, re–gathering everyone’s attention. ‘So, the farmer dragged the body down into the cellar, and into a little storeroom down there… and then started bricking up the doorway. Half the night he worked –’

‘There’s no storeroom in the cellar!’ Colin found himself exclaiming.

‘Sure there ain’t… _not any more_ ,’ Percival intoned with great significance.

And Colin snorted with laughter at a point well made.

One of the other children weighed in: ‘ _I_  heard that they stuffed him into a trunk and locked it up tight.’

‘What ’d they need to lock it for, if he were dead?’

‘Half the night he worked,’ Percival insisted on continuing, and the others quietened again. ‘And when the job were done, he came upstairs and got into bed beside his wife. He was a–weary, so he slept for a while… but then he was awoken by a strange sound. _Stop yer weepin’ and moanin’,_ he said to his wife. _I ain’t weepin’,_ she replied. But still the noise went on in the quiet night. _Stop yer grievin’,_ the farmer said. _Dead is dead, and there’s no gettin’ round it._ And she said again, _It ain’t me._ But he didn’t believe her, and finally he cried, _Stop yer groanin’! Yer like to drive me mad!_ And she sprang out of the bed. _It’s my love! It’s my love who’s a–groanin’!_ ’

Even Colin was sitting there with bated breath by now.

‘She ran down the stairs to the hallway, through the kitchen where the man’s blood still lay spilt on the floor, and then down the stairs again into the cellar – and she threw herself at the bricked–up doorway. The new–made wall trembled. She gathered herself up and ran at it again. The wall sagged inwards. A third time – and the bricks and mortar collapsed, and she fell through the doorway and into the arms of her love.’

Percival left a pause in which the silence resounded.

‘The farmer came down from their marriage bed, but he was too late. His wife was lying there dead. She’d stove her head in on the bricks. And the farmhand lay there beneath her, just as dead as he’d ever been, with his stoved–in head next to hers…’

‘And so,’ Colin said, in hushed tones, ‘do they haunt the house? Have they been seen in the cellar? The wife and the farmhand, I mean.’

‘No… No, sir,’ Percival replied in exactly the same tones. ‘Cos they’re together, see? They’re happy. But the farmer – he was stricken for the third and last time, seeing her lying there dead like that, just as if he’d killed her himself. He ran mad with the grief and the guilt. He run mad, and he died a long way from home. And his ghost… his ghost keeps trying to return. But he can’t get in. He can’t get in.’

Which was the end of the tale, but they all remained gripped in the relentless horror of it.

‘Thank heavens for that,’ concluded Bradley in hearty tones.

Colin and all his charges swung round to find Captain Bradley Wentworth standing just within the door, leaning nonchalantly back against the wall.

‘I’m very glad to hear that he can’t come in. Mr Elliot, if you should hear anyone knocking for entrance in the middle of the night, I trust you’ll be so good as to ignore them.’

The class laughed in relief as well as humour, and the fearful tension drained away. ‘Yes, of course,’ Colin replied. ‘I’ll stop my ears with the pillow so I can’t hear anything more.’

‘Excellent.’

Colin stood, and announced the end of the academic day. Quiet and separate from the happy bustle, Percival Owen came over to Colin and asked, ‘D’you have that prospectus for me to read, sir?’

‘Of course.’ Colin rummaged around for it amidst the work he had to mark, the lesson plans he’d prepared. ‘Here you are. Will you show it to your parents, do you think?’

‘Maybe, sir. If I like the sound of it.’

Percival was gazing up at Colin with his eerie wide grey eyes, and Colin barely restrained himself from ruffling the child’s dark hair. ‘Well, if you do, I’m sure they’ll want to speak to me. Tell them they can call on me at any time, either here or at home.’

A small smile undercut the seriousness. ‘But not in the middle of the night, sir.’

‘No,’ Colin agreed with a laugh. ‘Not in the middle of the night.’ And then he did shape his hand to that small round head, so full of words and brimming over with stories – and Percival beamed up at him as if it were Christmas.

When the children were all gone, Bradley walked over to Colin where he was still tidying up his desk, and commented, ‘That Owen child is half–in–love with you.’

Colin grinned wryly. ‘There’s no need to be jealous.’

‘I am _not_ jealous,’ Bradley retorted, glancing quickly about to be sure that the doors and windows were closed. ‘I just think that… you should be careful. We need to be so very careful, Colin.’

‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ Colin gathered up an armful of the books the class had used in the penultimate lesson, and headed across the room to begin shelving them. Bradley gathered up the rest of the books, and followed him, handing him another volume for each one of Colin’s that slid into place. ‘He’s ten years old,’ Colin continued. ‘At such an age, it doesn’t mean anything. Why, my brother Laughlin was in love with our tutor at much the same age – and he turned out nothing like me at all.’

‘Are you sure about that? He still hasn’t married.’

‘The only reasons for that are his laziness and his snobbishness. Once the right heiress falls in his lap, he’ll stroll down the aisle soon enough.’

Bradley gave a noncommittal grunt in response. But then he asked, ‘Who were you in love with at ten?’

Colin winked at him. ‘Oh, any man in a naval uniform could have had my heart for the asking.’

Despite himself, Bradley grinned, even while he complained, ‘Do you take nothing seriously?’

‘Apparently not…’

They worked in silence for a few moments, before Bradley asked, ‘What was the prospectus for?’

‘A grammar school I’d like him to attend.’

‘Oh, Colin…’ Bradley sounded almost sorrowful. ‘I admire your ambition on his behalf, but there is no chance his parents will agree to such a thing – nor afford it, even if they wanted to.’

Colin shrugged. ‘I have to try. The child has such a facility for storytelling! And he easily out–performs the rest of the class when it comes to the use of any kind of language, even those three years older than him.’

‘He is a farmer’s son; he’ll become a farmer himself. You’d better resign yourself to that, and not just for the Owens.’

Colin groaned in disgust. ‘Why did they name him _Percival_ , for heaven’s sake, if he’s only ever going to plough fields?’

Bradley shrugged in turn. ‘Even a farmer can dream, I suppose.’

‘Of course! Of course they can! And a schoolmaster can perhaps help those dreams come true. The grammar school is only in Shrewsbury, anyway; it’s not far distant.’ When Bradley remained unconvinced, Colin continued, ‘How can you, a self–made man, be so dismissive of the rare chances that life offers?’

‘Ah, well… It would be a different matter if you were trying to enlist him in the navy…’

Colin hefted the last volume in one hand, giving serious consideration to hurling it at the infuriating man. But Bradley would deftly catch it or deflect it, and that would be that.

‘In any case,’ Bradley continued, ‘I was the son of a gentleman, even though he was poorer than John Owen. You can’t deny that young Percival has everything against him.’

‘But he could _become_ a gentleman in time, through his learning. Why are you –’ Colin sighed, and turned with his arms empty to Bradley. ‘Why are you arguing with me?’ he asked more reasonably. ‘And today of all days.’

‘It is my privilege and honour to be able to argue with you,’ Bradley loftily explained, ‘and it has been for a year now.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Come on, get your coat and hat. Have you forgotten that it’s Wednesday? We’ll be late for Emily’s early dinner.’

‘Do you think they realise?’ Colin asked as he donned his outdoor gear. ‘Will they remember? That it’s a particular day to be marked, I mean.’

‘I shouldn’t think so,’ Bradley answered lightly. ‘My brother is happy that we’re… together. Of course. Emily is happy that we’re particular friends. But I should think you and I are the only ones celebrating.’

‘Of course,’ Colin echoed, trying to keep his tone just as light. But then he just looked at Bradley, at his love, and he was immediately reminded that any griefs or difficulties were as nothing compared to the joy of sharing his life with this man. ‘What more could we ever ask?’ he murmured.

‘What more indeed?’ Bradley responded. And though they stood three foot apart, and did not stir, the intimate warmth in Bradley’s eyes made the moment a close one. ‘Come,’ said Bradley at last. ‘We had better go.’

‘Yes,’ Colin agreed. ‘Thank you,’ he added, for he knew that Bradley had just indulged him with honesty, here in the privacy of the schoolroom.

‘Colin,’ Bradley began as they wandered together along the river, taking the long way around to the vicarage.

‘Mmm?’

‘What would you say to… spending the summer travelling the Continent?’

‘I would say that I can’t afford it.’

‘Well, of course _I_ would pay, and _I_ can afford it very well. Didn’t I tell you that the Admiralty finally released the last of our prize money?’

‘You told me.’ Colin looked at him with patience for Bradley’s frustration. ‘You know we must still appear to be independent in some things. It is enough that we share the home that you purchased! No humble schoolteacher could afford the Continent.’

‘If the teacher is the second son of a baronet, he might be supposed to be in funds and not so very humble after all. What man would dare say different?’

‘Any man who guessed the sorry state of my father’s finances! I’m sure it’s generally recognised that he didn’t move to Bath for his health.’

‘Well, all right.’ But Bradley obviously wasn’t going to surrender this one. ‘All right, what man would dare tell me that I couldn’t take my particular friend on a journey with me?’

‘Bradley…’

The man cast a glance about them, to ensure they were alone. Nevertheless, he spoke quietly: ‘There are certain liberties to be had there, you know.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Colin agreed. ‘And a hundred other travelling Englishmen to witness us taking such liberties, and then tell all their acquaintance back home.’

‘Colin! Why are you so against the plan?’

‘ _You_ should go, if you want to.’

‘What?’

Colin stopped on the winding path, in the shade cast by three closely–planted beeches. After a moment, Bradley turned and came back to stand facing him. A safe distance apart, as usual. Colin said, ‘You’re restless, aren’t you?’

Bradley shrugged. ‘It’s not that I haven’t appreciated the chance to be often at home this past year.’ A swift clear blue glance conveyed exactly why he’d appreciated it, and how very much. ‘But you’ll find that no naval man does very well without a voyage to look ahead to.’

‘I do understand. And if you want to travel, you have my blessing.’

‘ _Christ!_ Colin, how in God’s name can you –’

‘It’s not that I won’t miss you,’ Colin said, low and fierce. ‘It’s not that I won’t feel less than half alive without you here. But there’s no reason for you to stay if you need so much to go.’

‘You do realise – don’t you? – that even if I were undertaking the richest voyage on the most magnificent frigate with the finest officers and the best of crews, even if I were having the most exhilarating time of it possible – even then I would spend half of every minute thinking about you, and missing you, and _longing_ to be home again, longing so very much that I _ached_ with it…’

Colin held Bradley’s beautiful intense gaze for long luxurious moments… but then at last he smiled softly, and he whispered, ‘I love you,’ and he let Bradley re–gather himself. ‘You will always want to be in two places at once, won’t you? At home with me, and on board a ship. I am sorry that there’s no solution for you. Not until you retire, I suppose. And even then you will always miss the sea.’

They began walking on, slowly, with their heads down. ‘I wish I could have you on board, just as the Admiral takes Sophia everywhere with him. You’ve no idea how I envy him! Maybe one day I can have your company, for a voyage or two. But you can see how odd it might appear. And I would have to resist – _anything_ that might be considered improper – with you so close – day in and day out –’

‘You seem to resist me perfectly well when we are here at home,’ Colin responded, a little more tartly than he intended.

‘But here I have the night to look forward to, and a night with you can make any day bearable.’

They shared a look as they walked, and then Colin laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood. ‘Perhaps I should jump in the river or something. To cool me down. I’m not sure I’m in any fit state at present to spend the evening with your brother and his wife.’

‘Why should I be the only one suffering?’

Colin grinned. ‘You’d better have a dip in the river with me.’

‘Don’t tempt me…’

They laughed, and then fell silent again as they saw the vicarage in the distance. Before they quite reached it, Colin said very low, ‘I’m happy, you know. I’ve never been even half as happy in all my life.’

And Bradley replied, ‘I’m glad.’

After dinner, Edward announced that he needed to consult with Bradley and Colin about something, so the men excused themselves to Emily, and retired to Edward’s study. ‘I have received a letter from a lawyer friend,’ Edward said without any preamble once the door had been closed behind them. He unlocked his desk, and then a drawer within the desk, took out a letter, and unfolded it as he explained, ‘He was responding to a query of mine.’

‘What about?’ asked Bradley, standing restlessly while Colin settled himself in the armchair. It was obvious that not only was Bradley impatient for Edward to get to the point, but he was also not anticipating it being of much interest to him.

‘I asked him about the Buggery Act of…’ Edward peered at the letter. ‘Of 1533.’

Colin had gone utterly cold, and Bradley was shocked into stillness. ‘What –?’ Bradley demanded. ‘What in _hell_ did you do that for?’

‘I wanted to be sure of what you’re both risking.’

‘Do you think we don’t _know_? By God, Edward, what a damned monstrous thing to do.’

‘The offence,’ Edward continued implacably, ‘carries a mandatory sentence of death.’

‘And so you alert people to the fact that you know someone to whom this applies?’

‘Bradley, you are in danger under the twenty–eighth item of the Articles of War –’

‘For God’s sake! I know it well! I am required to read it out to the officers and crew once a month!’

‘– under which you would be hung. But, Colin, you would not escape the same punishment. The Buggery Act applies to all men.’

‘Edward. I had no idea you were so little to be relied upon.’

Colin finally found his voice. ‘Bradley, please. Edward was acting out of concern for us.’

‘Damned foolish thing to do,’ Bradley muttered, turning away, and obviously trying to gather himself.

‘Edward, I’m sure you understand that even a hint of suspicion could mean the most awful danger for us.’

‘Well,’ said Edward with a sniff, ‘of course I told him I was writing on behalf of a friend with a curacy in a nearby parish.’

‘Oh,’ rejoined Bradley sarcastically, ‘because _that_ story will fool any man.’

‘Bradley,’ Colin whispered.

‘All right. All right. I’m sorry, Edward – but, _Christ_ , only you and Colin know the whole truth about me. And if you didn’t realise it before, you certainly do now, don’t you? I’ve trusted you with my _life_. And more than that – _with Colin’s life_.’

‘I do not take your trust lightly,’ Edward assured him. ‘I’m sorry to give you a fright. But there are reasons why… why I  _trust_ this man to whom I wrote. He would not tell another soul of my enquiry, I promise you.’

A long moment’s peace passed. Not a quiet peace, but one that gradually calmed them.

Finally Bradley gestured in a resigned kind of frustration. ‘All this you knew before, and so did we. What has changed? We are in danger. And you cannot ask me not to love, Edward.’

‘No. Of course not.’ Edward inclined his head respectfully towards Colin. ‘And not when met with such a man.’

‘Oh Lord,’ Bradley grumbled, ‘everyone is half–in–love with Colin, it seems.’

‘No, but he was a friend of mine when I was at Monkford – before ever he met you – and I valued him highly.’

‘You speak in the past tense,’ Bradley observed.

‘I value him even more highly now. He is my brother.’

Colin smiled at Edward with affection. ‘As you are mine.’

‘Well, if you are done now,’ Bradley said, ‘I think we will bid you goodnight.’

‘I am done. Except for chiding you for blaspheming.’

‘Edward, for the love of…’ Bradley sighed. ‘Don’t push your luck.’

‘I wonder if he’ll ever tell Emily,’ Colin mused as he and Bradley at last walked home in the late evening twilight.

‘Why not?’ Bradley muttered in reply. ‘He’s told everyone else he’s intimate with.’

‘Bradley…’

‘Yes, all right. I exaggerate. My honest answer is that I don’t know. Probably not. Though I think he underestimates her capacity for sympathy – strange though that is to say about a husband. I think she could cope with the unexpected, but he seems to think her… timid.’

‘I think instead she’s unassuming.’

‘Exactly. Well,’ Bradley added with another sigh, ‘it’s not that I don’t understand feeling protective towards the person you care about most in the world.’

Colin cast him a long loving look, and they walked on in silence.

Of all the improvements Bradley had made to their home, the one Colin best appreciated was the window Bradley had let into the roof which sloped across half of their bedroom: it meant that they could make love together in the sunlight or indeed the moonlight, as they were doing now, with the endless sky as their only witness.

‘Please,’ said Bradley, his breath coming heavy and his skin looking like the smoothest pale warm gold even in the cool light. They hadn’t lit candles that night. ‘Please, Colin. More.’

On his next gentle thrust, Colin slid a second finger in with the first, feeling the tension and then the surrender around him as Bradley accepted him, welcomed him, revelled in Colin’s possession of him. _I have been empty without you,_ Bradley had explained when they had first made love. _A hollow shell. Fill me._ And Colin had done so, happily, fiercely, joyfully. Now it seemed, a year later, that Bradley’s craving for this act would never be sated.

‘More,’ Bradley hoarsely demanded again.

Colin lay down between his love’s thighs, carefully withdrew his fingers and instead slowly pressed himself inside. Bradley arched back, his breath catching in his throat, as again Colin felt the tension and then the surrender – and now the blessedly hot pressure encasing him, especially the very entrance which gripped a ring around him, tightly rolling down and up his length as Colin took his time thrusting within his love, his love… He had to concentrate on Bradley. He had to take a deep calming breath and put all his attention into Bradley, or else this would be o’er with only one of them truly satisfied. ‘All right?’ Colin asked. ‘Bradley… Is this all right?’

‘Yes. Oh dear God, yes…’ Bradley seemed to be utterly lost in the passion, in the intensity of being possessed.

‘Tell me how it feels,’ Colin murmured, hardly even expecting Bradley to hear him let alone answer.

But after a moment, Bradley managed, ‘Hot… like I have a fever… ice hot and then burning cold…’

‘God!’ That didn’t necessarily sound good, though there was no denying this was what Bradley wanted. ‘Am I causing you pain?’

‘Only in – in the most d–delicious ways…’ Bradley gazed directly at him, into him with eyes that appeared cool in the moonlight. ‘Don’t stop. Don’t _ever_ stop.’

‘I won’t, Bradley. I won’t, my darling man.’

Bradley groaned. ‘More, I want _more!_ Make me whole again…’

Colin continued steadily pushing in and withdrawing, pushing in and withdrawing. ‘Will you ever do this to me?’ he asked, knowing he sounded wistful.

Bradley’s expression turned wary.

‘Even if it was just once, so that I can know it, too?’

‘No, I, uh –’

‘Even with just your finger? Bradley –’

‘God,’ he protested. ‘No, but – you know I’d promise you anything if – if you’d just, if you’d give me – _more._ Colin, please…’

And Colin didn’t know how to give the man more, because he knew Bradley meant more _bulk_ rather than more _speed_ , and he knew that Bradley didn’t want to be touched but only fucked _fucked **fucked**_. Colin arched up, looking down at where he plunged steadily inside his love – and he had a daring idea. He shifted his weight onto his left elbow and his knees, and slipped his right hand down between them. He carefully ran the tip of his forefinger around the arc of flesh he could see stretched tight around him.

Bradley shuddered in reaction, and groaned as if distraught, _‘please…’_

Colin slipped that finger inside the man as well, running it up the length of his own cock as he pushed in, and then leaving it in place as he pulled slowly almost all the way out.

Great heaving breaths almost undid his resolve, until in the midst of them Colin managed to hear a panted, ‘yes… yes… yes…’

‘Love you,’ he said in response. ‘Love you.’

‘I should be – as ashamed – as a tuppenny whore –’

‘Never!’

‘I should be –’

But then as Colin pushed in again, Bradley bore down on him, and not only that but the extra friction provided by his own finger was Colin’s undoing – He shouted _‘Love!’_ and spent _hard._

Stars filled his head as the feelings surged powerfully through him, and then as he ebbed the stars winked out, and all was dark for long moments…

When Colin opened his eyes again, Bradley still lay there under him, gasping with need, one corner of his mouth crooked with a smugly happy smile. ‘Good?’

 _‘God,_ yes.’

‘Please, then – Please –’

Colin could feel that he was already soft, though still tucked within Bradley, and that would do his love no good, so he let himself slip out, and instead he pushed a second finger in again.

‘More. Please. Colin, I –’

A third finger and still it wasn’t enough, and all was slick now with his seed, all was stretched and well–used, and Bradley was panting, so Colin tried to curve the width of his hand and added a fourth finger – and still Bradley wanted more, so he let his thumb slip into the gap created by his palm and his gathered fingers, and –

Bradley panting, ‘yes… yes… yes…’ as Colin pushed a little further, a little harder – and without intending to, without even conceiving of the possibilities, he found his knuckles had wedged in, and Bradley’s mouth was open over his shakily gulping breath, his lips full and hungry, starving, _begging_  – Colin pushed the bulk of his hand in, and then that tight ring was gripping round his wrist, and he was thrusting with short little jabs, yes, his hand had quite instinctively curled into a fist and was grazing along that tight smooth wall within Bradley, the entrance to him clenching round Colin’s wrist, and –

Moans from Bradley, little whimpering moans as if they were animals, or at least as if this was so far beyond anything they had ever imagined that there were no words any more, but only sounds to express _good_ and _good_ and _more_ and **_now!_**

Colin bent down and took Bradley’s cockhead into his mouth, and he’d hardly even secured it before Bradley completed with an agonised cry, gushing up into him, clenching down hard on him, the cry becoming a gut–wrenching sob that Colin could _feel,_  and –

And then Bradley was curling up tight around him, and Colin was carefully so very carefully withdrawing despite Bradley’s struggling little efforts to keep him inside, and Bradley whimpered and shuddered as he was emptied again, clung on hard while Colin shakily reached for the towel on the dressing table by the bed, dipped it in water and got them both cleaned up. Then Colin lay down with Bradley, and gathered him close into his arms his legs his whole self, wrapping the sheets and blankets around them both tight while Bradley shook and then quivered and at last stilled. After a while, with Colin watching over him and the sky darkening above as the moon set, Bradley slept.

Colin was preparing lessons at the kitchen table early the next evening, while Bradley alternated preparing a stew for their dinner and reading the weekly newspaper, when there came a knock at the door. They shared a glance, not being in a regular habit of receiving visitors, before Bradley went to answer it. After a minute or two he came back in slowly, looking down at a package he held in both hands. Colin’s heart sped when he saw the thickly folded parchment, the red ribbons and large red seal: orders from the Admiralty. What Bradley had always been hoping for. Colin was excited and pleased for Bradley’s sake, but of course part of him was already keening in grief.

‘We knew this would come one day,’ Colin said, trying to avoid any attempt at an unnecessary apology on Bradley’s part. ‘I am delighted for you.’

‘Are you?’

‘Of course. I’m so very proud of all you’ve achieved. You deserve this.’

‘Colin –’

 _‘We knew this would come.’_

‘Yes.’ Bradley sighed. ‘Well.’ He hadn’t moved since returning to the kitchen. ‘Let’s see what it is, before we talk of pride and deserts.’ He sat down and broke the seal with a sense of finality. Colin went to stir the stew and slice the loaf of bread to allow Bradley time to digest the contents of his orders. ‘A new ship!’ he at last announced. ‘Not just – I mean a  _newly built_ ship. I wasn’t expecting –’

‘That’s wonderful,’ Colin murmured with genuine warmth.

‘The _St Patrick_.’ Bradley looked up at Colin. ‘That’s a good omen. The patron saint of your countrymen.’

‘He will keep you safe for me.’

‘I will have everything finished off in the colour of your eyes – the trim, the furnishings, the china, the officers’ waistcoats – and no one can think it strange for it will be but a darker shade of St Patrick’s blue.’

‘Bradley, I…’ Colin took a breath, and then attempted a laugh. ‘I suspect you are feeling a little sentimental just now.’ He sat down at the table opposite Bradley, for otherwise he would be tempted to go to the man and hold him.

‘I am ordered to Portsmouth at my earliest convenience – which means yesterday if I could but manage it – to oversee the fitting out, the supplies.’ He stared across at Colin. ‘I should be able to – no, I  _will_ return, at least once, before we are ready to sail. And perhaps you could visit me in Portsmouth, if you can take time away from the school. But then there is a voyage to be undertaken.’ Bradley lifted the papers and shook them. ‘I cannot tell you where, I’m sorry.’

‘ _Please_ don’t apologise. This is – We knew this would come. The wonder of it is that we have had much of this past year together. And I am happy for you, I really am, Bradley. I know this is what you want.’

‘ _You’re_ what I want.’

‘You have me as well,’ Colin said evenly. ‘You have both of the things you want most, and if I have anything to do with it, you always will.’

‘By _God,_ I love you,’ Bradley said fiercely.

‘I love you, too,’ Colin whispered. And he indulged himself though the daylight lingered outside: he reached across the kitchen table and grasped Bradley’s hand for one long fleeting moment. ‘I’ll always be yours.’

‘Then I’ll always be whole.’

### Chapter Two

The time passed.

A month passed, and Colin was never more grateful for his work and his home, both of which kept him occupied. Given their vulnerabilities, they had decided to try to do without servants, though they paid a woman in the village to help with their laundry and another to come in and help clean the downstairs rooms. Every other day or so, one of Colin’s charges would bring in a jar of preserves or a baked item from his or her mother to support the bachelor household. Emily was unstinting in assistance, of course, and happy to offer advice when asked. And Bradley’s steward Young, a former apprentice in carpentry whose family lived not ten miles away, had devoted a great deal of effort to helping Bradley fit out the house in the early days, and repair it since. Bradley, of course, had taken on most of the household responsibilities while waiting for his next posting. But now Bradley was in Portsmouth, and Young with him – and Colin was alone, but he didn’t mind the extra work, for it tired him out and spared him too many restless nights in the bed that now seemed so very empty.

Once or twice a week, a letter would arrive from Bradley. If Colin was lucky he would receive it over breakfast at home, and he could devour it immediately. If not, then it was brought to him at the school, and he must receive it with a cool kind of pleasure, and put it aside for the rest of the day, to be read in the privacy of Edward’s study or at home that evening. Not that there was ever anything in the letters that he could not share with anyone; Bradley was not so rash as to commit his true feelings to ink and paper now that all was understood between them. Rather, perhaps, Colin was protecting his own feelings, his own reactions, as he read Bradley’s neatly flowing script. _My dearest friend,_ he would always begin.

>  _Colin – my dearest friend –_
> 
>  _I trust that this finds you healthy and happy, and that you are discovering things to enjoy in having the house to yourself for a while._
> 
>  _Everything aboard the St Patrick is looking so very smart now. I am sitting in what will soon become my cabin. All has been painted a fresh white and a sober charcoal grey, with a trimming of that beautiful greenish blue of which we spoke. I am thought odd to insist on only silver or pewter for the fittings, instead of gold and brass, but I do not think that anyone will be able to argue with the effects. I hope you will be able to visit and give it your approval before we set off on our first voyage._
> 
>  _In the meantime – within the next few days – we will be taking the St Patrick on a run down to the Scillies to try her out. We will only be putting into port on the way if there are difficulties, so I trust you will forgive me if you don’t hear from me for a short while._
> 
>  _I have spoken to you before about the function of ballast. It seems strange even to me that a newly built ship should need such prosaic corrections – but even a ship as fine as this one, built by the best yard in the business, will require certain adjustments before sailing true. The only way to judge those adjustments to a nicety is to make them while under sail. Once it is done – I am looking forward to feeling the sweet swift thrum under my feet of my ship cutting through the ocean as cleanly as she was intended to do._
> 
>  _Let me know if you can get away, and when, as I look forward to showing off my new charge._
> 
>  _Young asks to be remembered to you – as does one of my new lieutenants, Joseph Dempsie, whose father is a tenant farmer on your father’s land at Kellynch._
> 
>  _I will sign off now, trusting that you do not need such prompting to remember your true friend,_
> 
>  _Bradley Wentworth_

 

>  _My truest friend, Bradley –_
> 
>  _You may have a pile of letters awaiting you on your return from the Scillies, for I will not quit writing. This is the first, though I suspect it won’t matter in what order you read them – all our little items of news sound trivial and unvarying when compared with yours! You didn’t mention how long you might be away, but I suppose it will be more than a week, probably at least two. I wish you well with finessing the ballast until your beloved charge sails true! You talk of it as a prosaic process, and yet you become quite poetical. I suppose that is the inspiration and joy to be had from your own fine St Patrick. Edward and I are still discussing the possibility of me absenting myself for a week during the term. Unfortunately the woman he had in mind to fill in for me in the classroom is no longer available due to an imminent increase in her family. Edward seems surprised that the son of a baronet, no matter how lowly the son, will not just walk away from his responsibilities as it suits himself, but I reassured him that I cannot see the point in doing so – and you would not expect it of me. You would not do it yourself. I take my charges as seriously as you do yours, and indeed as Edward does his._
> 
>  _You are far better at letter–writing than I am, you do realise that, do you not? I am thinking aloud – Well, I am thinking in ink here, and probably conveying very little other than fragments._
> 
>  _Please send Young my best regards. And Joe – What a delightful surprise to know he is serving on the St Patrick with you! I did not have the honour of knowing him well, but he was always a stalwart hardworking man at Kellynch, and I trust you will still find him so. His brusque honesty was many a time valuable to me – but more than that, he has a stout heart, and it does my own heart good to know that when it really matters he will be standing at your side._
> 
>  _I will sign off soon. It is late, and I didn’t sleep well last night. The kitchen window was rattling in a peculiarly unsettling way, and I could not help remembering Percival’s ghost story about the farmer. ‘But he can’t get in,’ I kept telling myself. ‘He can’t get in.’ It didn’t help very much. This morning I resolved the problem by tightening the fastening of the latch and oiling the hinges to allow the window to sit more snugly in its frame. You and Young would have been proud of me, or so I told myself as reward. The proof and a further reward will be in how well I sleep tonight. Then tomorrow night I will have other problems to contend with, as Percival has promised us another local ghost story, to be recounted as usual at the end of the day. Wish me well!_
> 
>  _As I wish you, and the St Patrick, and your officers and men well. I will think of you all thrumming fast and sure and true through the endless ocean wave. Be safe, my friend, for now and for always._
> 
>  _Colin_

‘And when they gathered again soon after the funeral,’ Percival was concluding in suitably eerie tones, ‘the engraving still hung in its place on the wall. It had not been moved nor even touched; there was a fine layer of dust over it, which hadn’t been disturbed. But the dark figure in the image was gone, and the house in it – the very house they stood in – was quiet now under the drawn moonbeams. The master of the house had died, and his baby son had disappeared. The figure’s work was done…’ A brief pause. ‘The engraving remained on the wall for years after, and was thought mighty uncommon. But it has never been known to change since.’

Colin and the rest of the class sat there transfixed by the ghastly inexorable logic of the tale. A moment’s silence passed.

A silence which was suddenly shattered by a slow clapping of hands from the doorway.

Colin swung around, already grinning, thinking to find Bradley there, unexpectedly released from his duties, perhaps the voyage to the Scillies had had to be postponed – all these thoughts scrambled through Colin’s mind in the breath it took for him to turn and find – ‘Aidan!’

‘Good afternoon, Mr Elliot.’

‘Oh!’ He pushed himself to his feet, and bowed his head properly. ‘Good afternoon, my lord. I trust you are well.’

Aidan stood there insouciantly, casting an amused yet superior look around the classroom. ‘Well enough, I thank you,’ he replied absently.

Colin remembered himself, and turned back to his class. ‘Thank you, everyone, for your attention. It has been a most enjoyable day. You may go home now.’ And they all began packing up and heading off with their usual giddy sense of release, only slightly slowed this afternoon by curiosity about the visitor. ‘Thank you for the story, Percival,’ Colin said to the last child to leave – and he received a small solemn smile in return before Percival turned an intrigued look upon Aidan. Then at last, in the quiet, Colin turned to face his cousin. ‘Well, Aidan…’

‘You seem surprised.’

‘Yes, I… I suppose that few village schoolteachers would expect to be visited by a viscount.’

‘But you are not only a village schoolteacher, Colin.’

‘Yes, I am,’ he said simply. ‘I am now. I chose a humbler life. I don’t suppose many would understand –’

‘I _know_ what you chose,’ Aidan said, overriding Colin, and casting him a very direct look. ‘I know _exactly_ what you chose.’

Colin could feel the colour in his cheeks betraying him, but he responded as levelly as he might, ‘I assumed that… I was giving up certain acquaintances, in living here and pursuing this vocation.’

‘Your father hasn’t visited, I take it?’

Colin shook his head. Of course not.

‘Your brother?’

‘No.’

Aidan huffed a dismissive laugh. ‘And I am sure that your sister Maura has cut off all ties entirely. I thought _I_ was a snob…’ Another laugh, more genuine this time. ‘No, I  _am_ a frightful snob, yet Maura exceeds me.’

‘My father received me,’ Colin insisted, ‘when I travelled once to Bath with Admiral and Mrs Croft.’

‘Not during the fashionable visiting hours; I would put money on it.’

‘No,’ he admitted.

‘He wouldn’t have wanted to be forced to introduce you to anyone…’

‘Quite.’ Colin’s heightened colour was now more about an irritation with Aidan for harping on about the matter than a consciousness of his own secrets. ‘Which prompts the question of why _you_ should visit, my lord.’

‘Ah…’ Aidan strolled further into the classroom, down between the tables and benches, then turned and slowly came back to stand across the desk from Colin. ‘I once offered you a position as my secretary and my companion.’

Colin returned Aidan’s knowing gaze very steadily, wondering why he’d ever doubted just what sort of companion his cousin desired. ‘You did, my lord.’

‘The post was…’ Aidan glanced away, ‘filled for a while. But it has become available again.’ That knowing gaze speared into Colin. _‘Come live with me and be my love,’_ Aidan asked, with a surprising lyricism, with his beautiful Irish lilt.

‘Oh Aidan,’ Colin softly replied, ‘I _can’t._ You _know_ I can’t…’

‘Why can’t you? Humour me with an answer.’

Colin gestured helplessly around the classroom. ‘I have my work here. It means a great deal to me.’

‘I have work for you; meaningful work. And you can interest yourself in the schools on my estates, if you are really so inclined.’

‘Aidan, I thank you, but I –’

‘I offer you companionship, Colin. I suggest you do not turn that down so lightly.’

‘I thought you were asking for mine.’

‘Colin, do not quibble. I am not used to being quibbled with.’

He broke into a grin, and shook his head, trying not to find his cousin’s dignity a little ridiculous. ‘I’m sorry, Aidan, but I am not looking for a companion myself. And, to be honest, I cannot think we would really be suited, you and I.’

‘You used to think we were.’

‘I didn’t dismiss your kind offer without considering it, that much is true –’

Aidan’s expression had turned hard without Colin noticing. Probably when Colin was endeavouring not to laugh. ‘You already have a companion,’ he announced coldly.

Colin took a breath, knowing what he would convey and what Aidan would understand by his agreement. ‘Yes,’ he said simply, lifting his hands for a moment to let his open palms ask for mercy.

‘Captain Wentworth.’

‘Yes.’

‘I see.’

They were silent for a time.

Then Aidan said, ‘I think I could offer you something more than a mere naval captain –’

 _‘Don’t,’_ said Colin, unafraid of cutting off such an argument. ‘Please don’t.’ He added, with soft reason, ‘I made my choices, Aidan. I can only ask you to respect them.’

‘Yes. Of course.’ The viscount’s tone was stiff, which was perhaps not unexpected, yet he now seemed interested in smoothing away any pain they might have felt during such a difficult conversation. ‘Well. Will you join me for dinner at the inn?’

‘Is that where you’re staying?’

‘Yes, the inn attached to the coach house. I understood Captain Wentworth keeps his horses there, so I did likewise, and I took a room.’

‘Yes, but you – Well, it is very humble compared with your own home, I am sure of that, but you would be welcome to stay with me.’ Colin found himself colouring again.

Aidan’s eyes sparkled with humour, and he looked away. ‘With _you_ …? Or d’you have a guest bedroom, then?’

Colin was grinning, too. ‘You could stay in – in Bradley’s room. He is away at present.’

‘The captain’s room, yes…’ Aidan laughed. ‘I thank you for your generosity.’

‘Well, stay tonight, anyway. You might decide to move back to the inn tomorrow, if you extend your visit here.’

‘Oh, I doubt that, my dear cousin. I sincerely doubt that. The moving back, I mean, and not the extension.’

Colin went to fetch his coat and shrug it on. ‘You won’t mind walking there? It’s a short distance beyond the village, but it won’t take us fifteen minutes. Twenty,’ he corrected himself. ‘I’ll need to drop by the vicarage to excuse myself from dinner. It’s Wednesday, isn’t it? We always dine with Bradley’s brother and his wife on Wednesdays, and they are kind enough to still invite me even when Bradley is away.’

‘The brother is the vicar, I take it?’

‘Yes.’ They left the schoolhouse, and Colin led the way down the main road through the village, which was more direct than the route he and Bradley usually took along the river.

‘Would you be so good as to introduce me? Only if you think that would be welcome, of course. But I would appreciate it.’

‘Oh!’ Colin looked at the viscount in surprise. ‘Thank you, yes. That’s very good of you, Aidan.’

‘Not at all. I will be glad to know your friends.’

The introduction of course became an invitation for dinner, though Emily’s eyes were wide with panic at the thought of entertaining a viscount. But it was soon obvious that the evening would be a success: Aidan was perfectly courteous and effortlessly charming; Edward conversed intelligently and intriguingly; Emily eased from wit to giggles and back again in response to them both; and Colin enjoyed himself more than he could have thought possible without Bradley. They all drank a little too much wine, and then Emily daringly brought out Edward’s best brandy – in response to which Edward daringly challenged her to stay with the menfolk rather than retire as ladies were supposed to do.

The stars seemed to reel in the midnight–dark sky as Colin and Aidan finally made their way home, after stopping by the inn to collect a small bag of Aidan’s essentials. Their laughter quieted as the large cool night calmed them, brought them back to themselves, reacquainted them with a sense of perspective. They walked close together with their shoulders occasionally bumping companionably. ‘You know,’ Aidan said quietly, as they approached Colin and Bradley’s house, ‘I almost envy you.’

‘No, you don’t,’ Colin said, just very easily, for he was sure that Aidan wouldn’t give up his estates and his position in society and all his wide acquaintance for Colin’s quiet humble life.

‘In this moment, I do. I am lonely, Colin.’ And a hand slipped into Colin’s as they walked up the front path.

Colin squeezed it, and then let go. ‘It will pass.’

‘The loneliness?’

‘The envy, at least.’ Colin went in first, in order to light a lamp, and then he ushered Aidan in. ‘And you’ll find a new companion soon enough, I’m sure of it.’

‘I already know the one I want.’ And Aidan grasped Colin’s hand again, lifted it to his lips – pressed a kiss into the tender skin of his palm.

‘Stop that!’ Colin said with a laugh, retrieving his hand and setting what he hoped was nothing more than a playful tone – even while his palm tingled.

Aidan followed his lead well enough. ‘Give me another drink, then, if you won’t give me a kiss. D’you have whiskey?’

‘Whiskey, I can do… Will you deign to come through to the kitchen?’

‘Kitchens, I can do…’ And they both laughed.

‘D’you know many more men like us?’ Colin asked – or, rather, he slurred, for he was drunker than he’d been in many a long year. He was slumped forward with the edge of the table across his chest holding him something close to upright.

‘Men like us?’ Aidan echoed from the other side of the table, his handsome face heavily propped on one hand, and his blue eyes bright. He seemed surprisingly steady, though.

‘Y’know what I mean,’ Colin insisted. He waved a hand between them. ‘Men like you. Me. Bradley. ’S all I know.’

‘I _do_ know what you mean. I want to know what you call it.’

‘Men who… like men…? Men who… have a certain preference for…? Men.’

‘Just so. I know _many,_ my darling.’

Colin grinned widely. ‘S’good, then! You’ll find someone. New companion.’

‘Oh, but I want _you_.’

That provoked a spluttering laugh. ‘Silly. Flattery. Nothing so special about me.’

‘Well, if you honestly think that, and Bradley hasn’t been able to convince you otherwise, then he’s a fool and he doesn’t deserve you.’

‘Oh, but he _does_ , he _does_ …’ Colin thought about that for a moment. ‘No, he’s wonderful, and he deserves better, you’re right.’

Aidan smiled at him, confident and knowing.

Colin suddenly sobered a little as something occurred to him. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Of course you can.’

‘Got no one to talk to, see. Have to work it out – ourselves. Only –’

‘You don’t have all the answers.’

‘Hardly any…’ Colin shook his head sadly – then stopped that because he was getting frightfully dizzy. ‘Not many answers. And maybe the ones we have are wrong.’

‘You think you’re doing it wrong?’ Aidan’s smile broadened. ‘Oh Colin…’

‘What’s it like to… you know…’ Colin tried to convey his meaning with a grimace, a roll of the eyes and a waggle of the eyebrows, but obviously that was useless. ‘You know… when one man… _possesses_ another…’

‘I believe _sodomises_ is the word you’re looking for.’

‘Ssshhh…’ said Colin, looking about, though he knew well enough that they were alone. ‘What’s it like, to be the one… possessed?’

Aidan stared at him. ‘Good God, man, your Captain Wentworth really is a fool. If he knows you’re curious, why the hell hasn’t he demonstrated the answer already?’

‘Dunno,’ he answered sadly.

‘God, I… Colin. I could – Oh God, don’t you see? I want –’ But then Aidan drew himself up, sat back against the chair. ‘My darling, don’t you… pleasure yourself?’

Colin flushed. ‘Sometimes. More before I… found Bradley again. A  _lot_ more.’

‘Well, use your fingers next time.’

He lifted a hand, spread it out in front of his face, and stared at it, not quite understanding.

‘Slip a finger inside yourself,’ Aidan explained. ‘Start with one and work your way up…’

The light finally dawned. ‘Oh! Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘It’s so _obvious_. What else haven’t I thought of?’

Aidan grinned, feral. ‘I don’t know, my darling, but I would give anything to find out. I would love to devote a great deal of time to studying that very question.’

Colin just giggled. ‘My lord,’ he said loftily, ‘you are a terrible flirt.’

‘On the contrary, my dear: I am a _wonderful_ flirt.’ Aidan dug around in the bag he’d brought from the inn, then handed something over to Colin – something long and hefty, wrapped loosely in a silk scarf. ‘Here. See if you can’t work your way up to this.’

Colin frowned and slowly unwrapped the object – and let it fall clattering to the table once he’d seen it, even before he understood. A phallus. A smoothly carved and polished wooden phallus, long and thick and deliciously scary. ‘Aidan! What on earth…?!’

‘What on earth do I do with it? What do _you_ think, my darling? Yes, you do understand, don’t you?’ he asked as Colin blushed redder still. ‘And I’ll quite happily tell you what I’d _like_ to do with it.’

‘What?’ Colin whispered.

‘I’d like to sodomise you with it, if I can’t use the original. I’d like to press you down on your back in your bed, and push your thighs apart like a woman’s, and drive this up into you. I’d like to have you on all fours, or bent over this very table, and twist it in as deep as it will go. Do you see the ridges here…?’ Aidan trailed a fingertip down the series of ridges that circled the phallus near its base. Colin swallowed, not quite understanding – but wanting to. ‘I’ll use them to make you whimper with need. And then when you’re finally mine and you know it, then –’

Colin stared at the man, taking this in. He was gaping. He knew he was gaping, but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘The original?’ he eventually prompted.

‘Just so.’ Aidan indicated the wooden phallus that lay between them. ‘This was modelled upon it.’

He gaped some more, and considered the thing again, gaze travelling from one end to the other, taking in the full length and breadth… And then he laughed. ‘Oh, now you’re just showing off!’

And Aidan laughed, too. ‘I had you going for a while there, didn’t I, my darling?’

‘Yes! Stop it now. Stop talking like this!’ Colin waved his hand again, and squirmed. ‘And put that away!’

‘Think you can make do with your fingers for now…?’

Colin blushed, but he said primly, ‘Either way, I won’t be telling you about it.’ He got up, and began tidying up: putting away the whiskey bottle, rinsing out the glasses, putting things to rights.

Aidan watched him thoughtfully. Finally he asked, ‘How long is Bradley away for?’

‘I don’t know. Couple o’ weeks maybe.’

‘And what will he do when he comes home to find you gone?’

‘Gone?’

‘Gone to Ireland with the better man. The man who truly deserves you.’

‘I’m not going with you, Aidan.’ He said it easily, because he was sure it was already understood.

‘Yes, you are, my darling,’ Aidan replied, just as easily. Then the man stood, and picked up his bag. ‘Where’s the guest bedroom, then?’

‘Top of the stairs, on the right.’

‘Good. Well. I shall probably lie in tomorrow morning, so I will see you on your return from school.’

‘Yes. Make yourself at home, of course, Aidan. Goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, my love.’ And the man turned away and was gone.

Thursday was a long day, only made worse by Colin’s rueful knowledge that it was his own fault he was somewhat the worse for wear due to drink. But at last he headed home with a lively enough step, for he couldn’t deny that Aidan was interesting company, and if the man was a little too used to getting his own way, well, one couldn’t expect much different from a viscount. One of Colin’s charges had brought in an onion and cheese pie, and he knew from experience that it was worthy of even Aidan’s approval, so Colin wasn’t fretting about the hospitality he could offer. There were lamb chops to grill, and greens he’d pick fresh from the garden. A bottle of wine in which he’d invested a day’s wages. All would be well.

Colin arrived to find Aidan comfortably ensconced in the front room, with books, assorted papers and two newspapers all to hand. ‘How was your day, my lord?’ Colin asked.

‘Perfectly lovely. Very quiet!’

‘I imagine so.’ Colin headed through to the kitchen to deposit the pie and put water on to boil for tea. He discovered that the fire was already lit. ‘You found everything you needed, then?’ he asked, coming back through to the front room.

‘Yes. And Mrs Wentworth dropped by.’

‘Emily?’ Colin smiled. ‘I knew she was taken with you.’

‘I think she wanted to be sure I would be able to cope alone. Honestly, Colin, do you keep _no_ servants?’

‘No.’ Colin shrugged, though he knew he was a bit shamefaced. ‘Too many secrets to keep instead.’

‘Oh heavens! Pay them enough and they’ll keep your secrets for you – sometimes better than you can keep them yourself. Of course, it helps,’ Aidan added with a tiny sharp smile, ‘if you know some of their secrets as well.’

‘I’m sure you’ll think me naive, but I couldn’t live like that. Anyway, we don’t have the resources to pay for silence. I imagine it’s rather an expensive commodity.’ Colin shrugged again. ‘We do all right, the two of us. Bradley is used to taking care of himself – one has to be able to be completely independent on board a ship, even though they all muck in together – and I’ve been happy to learn.’

‘Oh, Colin… You deserve better, you really do.’

‘No, I don’t. What I have is – beyond anything I could have dreamed of.’

‘I could give you so much more.’

‘No, you couldn’t, Aidan. You couldn’t. I love Bradley. Oh, how I do love him. You know I can’t say that to another living soul! But you also know that nothing you offer me can ever compare to that.’

‘ _That’s_ what I want you to teach me.’

‘Aidan –’

‘You’re a teacher: I only want you to do what you do best, my love.’

Colin scowled. ‘Don’t call me that. You do it so lightly! I know very well that you don’t love me.’

‘Well, I _mean_ to love you, though…’

‘I’m sorry, Aidan.’ The matter was settled, and it was useless to try to change it. Surely the man could see that. ‘I’m, uh – I’m going to prepare dinner. You’ll excuse me, I’m sure.’ And Colin made good his escape.

Aidan followed him to the kitchen a short while later. Lounged elegantly in the doorway, watching Colin cooking the meal they would share. Eventually the viscount commented, ‘I’ve been writing letters.’

‘Yes?’ Colin responded. ‘I can take them into the village for you tomorrow, if you like.’

‘As you wish.’ Aidan drew a folded paper from his inside coat pocket. ‘Shall I read you one?’

‘If you like,’ Colin repeated. He kept working, kept his hands busy if not his thoughts, not anticipating anything of interest.

>  _My lord,_
> 
>  _It has fallen to me to perform a necessary yet painful duty, for it has come to my attention that a respected officer of the Royal Navy is in fact an unnatural sinner. This man is regularly in breach of the Articles of War, in that he commits sodomy with the male companion with whom he shares a home in Shropshire. I am ashamed to admit that my certain knowledge of this is due to a close family connection with the unfortunate companion. The officer’s name is Captain Bradley Wentworth, recently given command of HMS St Patrick. I rely on your prompt attention to bringing to justice this man – this beast – who so disgraces your honourable profession with not only his inherent sinfulness but his arrogance and hypocrisy. I will deal with the companion myself, as it seems meet to do so; I know I can rely on your discretion in this regard._
> 
>  _I remain, my lord, your faithful friend –_

‘– and so on and so forth,’ Aidan concluded, his voice as even and civil as it was when he began. ‘It is addressed to a member of the Admiralty, of course.’

Colin was doubled over, his hands on the table taking his weight – gasping with the shock of it, ill with the reality of it, reeling with the impossible possibilities. Was the very best of men to be destroyed by ink and paper and the malice of an unrequited fancy? They had been such fools, he and Bradley, to imagine the world would leave them be…

‘Well,’ Aidan said at last, ‘you may indeed take it into the village for me, as you kindly offered.’

‘You wouldn’t dare,’ Colin gasped out.

‘Oh, I think you’ll find I would.’

‘But your own position – hopelessly compromised –’

‘I think not. This man is an old friend of mine – and while he doesn’t know all my secrets, I certainly know some of his. Some rather ripe ones, I have to say,’ he added with a chuckle. ‘In any case, he would back my sort over Wentworth’s on any day of the year, and even you, my darling, as the second son of a mere baronet, would not be considered of any real significance.’

‘Aidan, for God’s sake…’

‘I’m afraid I’m as deaf to such pleas as God Himself.’

‘You – you talk of love one moment – and then in the very next breath you threaten to destroy the man I care most about in all the world? And you accuse _Bradley_ of being a hypocrite?’

‘My darling –’

‘Don’t call me that!’

‘My darling,’ Aidan implacably continued, ‘I’m sure you can guess at my conditions for _not_ sending this letter.’

Colin shuddered. ‘There was a time when I thought of you, it’s true –’

‘I’m glad you don’t attempt to deny it.’

‘I had lost all hope, and you seemed a decent enough man. But now I know what you really are – and I would rather die than let you touch me.’

‘Ah…’ Aidan countered, carelessly twirling the letter between his fingers. ‘But Bradley will die – quite painfully and ignominiously – if you don’t.’

 _‘Don’t you dare to say his name.’_

‘He doesn’t have to know anything about this. Leave here and come to Ireland with me. _Come live with me and be my love,_ sweet cousin o’ mine. He will be hurt to find you gone, but he’ll continue. He’ll survive. More than that, he’ll live. And he need never know how close he came to such a shameful end.’

Colin had stood and turned to face the man. ‘No.’

Aidan considered him for a long moment, and then smiled. ‘Colin, my darling, you have the courage to deny me for your own sake – and, strangely, I seem to love you all the more for it. But I don’t think you quite have the courage to send the captain to such a fate when you yourself could have averted it – and averted it by taking an action you have considered before. I know it was your second best choice then. I mean to make it your best choice now. In the years to come, you’ll grow comfortable. I don’t think you’ll find you have much to regret.’

‘No.’

Those blue eyes glittered hard. _‘Don’t you realise how vulnerable you are?’_

Colin stared at him, and then turned away. Tried to think. Destroyed by ink and paper – all that beauty and strength and goodness of Bradley’s and their shared hard–won love overshadowed by what the world would call their shame – dishonoured and then – and then – the light in him stopped. Colin forced himself to see it. Bradley’s horrible death, his painful last moments, and then the coldness of his remains, all that colourful _life_ now immobile and pale, and then he’d be buried without notice, with no one to mourn him because Colin would be in Ireland and his family and friends would have disowned him – and – and – _Bradley._ Colin found himself collapsed again, leaning against the wall, gasping for breath. _Bradley._ Anything would be better than Bradley dead. Bradley dead in such a disgraceful manner. Anything.

‘Please. Let me –’ Colin managed to say, though his throat felt constricted by the thick rope that awaited his love.

‘Don’t be such a fool as to think I wouldn’t be prepared to do it.’

‘That is now – the one thing – I don’t doubt.’

‘Good.’

‘Let me think on it. Tonight.’

Aidan’s voice sounded full of suspicion now. ‘Nothing will have changed in the morning.’

‘I might have – changed. Found my – resolve.’

‘Your resolve?’

‘To hurt him. You’re right. I couldn’t kill him.’

‘All right. But I’ll – I’ll require the keys for this house.’

Colin almost laughed in an hysterical horror. ‘You mean to lock me in? But where would I go? Who would I turn to?’

‘Exactly. Even Edward wouldn’t help you. I know that he knows, Colin.’

His heart plummeted as his one last hope was lost.

‘The vicar may be able to countenance such an unlikely thing for the captain’s sake, while all is quiet and easy – though I don’t quite understand why he should. But he won’t let you destroy his brother.’

‘Then you – you won’t mind me – talking to him. I want to – I want to talk with him.’

‘It won’t do you any good.’

‘I know.’

‘Promise me one thing. Neither you nor Edward – nor anyone you talk to – should write to Bradley.’

Colin was shaking his head. ‘I don’t want Bradley to know. I’ll swear Edward to secrecy.’

‘Good.’

‘He can think that I… I simply changed my mind about the choice I made.’

‘Exactly.’ Aidan took a step towards him, suddenly intent. ‘Colin,’ he said in hushed tones. ‘You’ve made your decision already, haven’t you?’

‘No. No, not yet. But I won’t be a part of killing him. Give me tonight, Aidan. Let me think on it.’

‘All right. God, sit down before you fall down, will you?’ And once Colin had collapsed into the nearest chair, Aidan said, as if all this was the most normal thing in the world, ‘Now, would you care for some dinner?’

‘No. For God’s sake, no.’

‘Pity.’ Aidan sat opposite him, and dragged over the pie, picked up a fork. ‘Well, I’m sure you won’t mind if I do…’

Colin sat there and watched him eat, straight from the pie dish. It was the first time in his life he’d felt ill with loathing.

He lay in the bed he’d shared with Bradley, sleepless for most of the night, until he finally dozed for an hour or so at dawn. When he woke again, he felt surprisingly clearheaded. He drafted a letter to Laughlin, and then took it downstairs with him when he went to relight the fire from the embers and make a pot of tea.

Aidan followed him down after half an hour or so, and sat opposite Colin. Poured himself a cup of tea. They sat there in silence, not quite looking at each other, until they were both ready for a second cup. Aidan poured it, and then prompted, ‘Well?’

‘I’ve written to a letter to my brother.’ Colin pushed the folded paper towards Aidan.

‘What about?’

‘If I’m going to move, I need his permission.’

‘You’re certainly of age. You can make your own decisions.’

Colin shook his head. ‘You haven’t had a family for a long time now. You forget what it’s like. Laughlin, and through him my father, prefer to feel that they can… at least approve or disapprove of my choices. It was significant for them to agree to me living quietly here, and becoming a teacher. They will be far happier about me working for you, I’m sure, even though it means a move to Ireland. But they will want to be applied to for permission.’

Aidan looked doubtful. ‘Perhaps it’s time to… be your own man and ignore such meddling.’

Colin prevented himself from retorting in disbelief: _Be my own man?_ Instead he smoothly responded, ‘Under the circumstances, you won’t want a great deal of fuss or attention. If you let me sort this out now, then there won’t be any difficult questions later.’

Eventually Aidan sighed, picked up the letter, and read through it.

>  _My dearest brother,_
> 
>  _I trust that this finds both you and our father in excellent health._
> 
>  _You will remember that a little more than a year ago our cousin, the Viscount Dalrymple, offered me a position as his secretary and companion. He is now visiting me here in Shropshire, and has condescended to stay in my home during Captain Wentworth’s absence. The post has fallen vacant again, and the Viscount has been kind enough to make me the same offer._
> 
>  _You will remember that we discussed this situation at great length before, and I would again appreciate your advice, if you have any to offer. As you well know, I have enjoyed my life here, and have been very happy – though you were right, and the quiet unvarying days do not suit me quite so well as I’d anticipated. I am tempted to take up our cousin’s generous offer, and once again live more in the world. In fact, I think I am determined to do so, if you and father will agree._
> 
>  _Please let me know your thoughts at your earliest convenience. As ever, I rely on your advice._
> 
>  _your loving brother, Colin_

‘Why, you sound almost dutiful!’ Aidan exclaimed.

Colin shrugged. ‘Laughlin expects it. And I suppose he doesn’t care if it’s a facade… For him, appearances are everything.’

Aidan tossed the letter down onto the table. ‘All right. Send it if you feel it will ease our way.’

They prepared carefully before heading into the village. Aidan let Colin look through his other letters before he sealed them, to be sure he wasn’t sending anything that might harm Bradley. And Colin insisted that Aidan promise to keep the letter to the Admiralty and its draft secure in his coat pocket all day, and not risk leaving them lying around. In turn, Aidan watched while Colin sealed his letter to Laughlin. Then they walked to the coach house together, and Colin handed over the bundle of letters to be conveyed.

They stood in the road afterwards, about to part ways for the day. ‘I require your word,’ Colin said, ‘that you will do nothing more in this matter than what has already been done. Not without fully informing me first.’

‘You have it.’ The corner of Aidan’s mouth sharpened. ‘Do you still trust me, then, my dear cousin? Is my word still good with you?’

‘I think that if you’re sure you’re going to win eventually, you’ll behave like a gentleman in the meantime. And there is a chance, I suppose, that you might respect and even like me too much to do anything really dishonourable.’

‘There is that chance indeed… I realise that my life from here on will be all the sweeter if I don’t make an enemy of you.’

Colin nodded, for he’d made his point. ‘Good. Well, I have my class to teach. Then I’ll visit Edward on the way home. I’ll see you this evening.’

‘I look forward to it, my darling.’

Another nod of acknowledgment, probably too abrupt, and then Colin turned on his heel and strode away. If only it were that easy to be free of the man.

Edward was horrified. Colin had just let it all spill out, too tired by now to censor much of it or indeed to make much sense. Edward had got the gist, though: ‘This man would see my brother hang…? Then you had best do as he says and go with him!’

Colin felt himself sag in his seat. He took a moment, before asking as reasonably as he could, ‘Is that what Bradley would choose, do you think?’

‘Do you think he’d choose to be strung up like a dog?’

‘No, I don’t imagine he would. But are those really our only options?’

‘You had better go with him. You said yourself that you once considered it a satisfactory position.’

‘Am I to be sacrificed, then?’

‘You would rather Bradley pay with his life and his reputation?’

‘Of course not. Of course not. Anything would be preferable –’

‘I will explain to him – He will not be able to – He will have to let it be, of course, but maybe this man will tire of you one day, and you will be free again. Indeed, how could he possibly be the steadfast sort? Obviously his most recent companion has already been released. Not that Bradley would –’

Colin stared at the man who he’d once thought extraordinarily sympathetic. ‘Not that Bradley would take me back?’ he supplied. ‘No, for I would be used and damaged goods by then, would I not? Dear _God_ , Edward,’ Colin continued fiercely, ‘there is a ruthlessness in you I haven’t seen before.’

‘Bradley made me swear to never say this to you, but you leave yourself open to this sort of thing – blackmail, compromises of all kinds – indulging in such an illicit union.’

Softly now: ‘Edward, I thought you were our true friend.’

‘I must be Bradley’s friend first, and the stakes are too high to play. You know they are!’

‘He will not thank you for cutting me adrift.’

‘Well,’ said Edward, at last losing the edge of his righteousness. ‘Well, if he cannot see that I have acted in his interests, then I must live with that.’

‘ _I_ cannot.’ It wasn’t Colin who responded, but Emily, who suddenly pushed through into the room as if she’d been listening at the door the whole time. ‘ _I_  cannot live with this, Edward.’

‘Emily, _please_ ,’ cried her husband. ‘You don’t understand.’

‘I understand all too well, thank you! Bradley and Colin love each other – they _love_ each other, Edward – and yet you are as determined to destroy them as the viscount is!’

Edward, to do him justice, was distraught at such an accusation. ‘How can you say that, when I am trying to preserve Bradley’s _life_?’

‘Not at such a cost. He wouldn’t thank you for doing _anything_ at such a cost.’

‘You don’t understand.’ Edward looked as if he were about to tear his hair out. _‘You don’t know what their relationship really is.’_

‘I know more about it than you do, if you honestly think you are responding a–right.’

A resounding silence while Edward visibly restrained every bitter retort that sprang to his lips. He stared at his beloved Emily for long moments, before at last turning a glare upon Colin. The truth was unspeakable.

‘Emily –’ Colin began, turning away. Not knowing quite what to say, but knowing that the peaceful trust between Bradley’s brother and his wife was also too precious a thing to sacrifice.

‘I know that you and Bradley share a bedroom,’ Emily announced, just very calmly. ‘And I know that Edward is in your confidence. I am not quite the innocent you all suppose.’

 _‘Emily…’_ Colin whispered, turning to her again. ‘I’m so sorry.’

Edward had collapsed back into the chair at his desk.

‘Bedroom doors exist for a reason,’ Emily continued, though now she couldn’t prevent herself blushing. ‘I’m as little interested in what happens behind yours as you are about mine. The important thing is that you love each other, and even if you were no more than friends, that would be enough. _Love_ , Edward,’ she said. _‘And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity._ I call on you to be charitable, in God’s name, for the best of causes, which is love.’

‘I can’t –’ he replied, though he sounded so utterly anguished.

‘Please,’ Colin managed to say. ‘Don’t let this ruin the trust between the two of you. Emily, I’m sorry we misjudged you. Our greatest concern was only to protect you, for we hold you dear. Edward, please don’t concern yourself about this matter any longer. I am almost determined to do as you suggest.’ He raised his voice to counter Emily’s protest. ‘I could not risk Bradley’s life. I cannot. It is for me to pay the price. That is all.’ He took a breath. ‘I only ask that you don’t try to contact Bradley in any manner, no matter how discreet. The viscount has forbidden it, and of course I don’t wish him involved.’

‘Colin –’ they both began.

But he was already heading for the door, wanting only to make his escape now while he still had some dignity about him. ‘I wish you both well. And I thank you both, for your honesty and for knowing what matters most. Good day to you…’

And he slipped away.

### Chapter Three

The time passed.

The days passed. Only three days, yet they felt like an eternity. Colin slept at night, but only because he was exhausted emotionally, intellectually, physically. He taught, he took care of the house, he cooked, he pretended that all was well, he went for long walks while his cousin strode along at his side refusing to be left behind and not deigning to complain no matter how far afield Colin led him.

‘You should start packing,’ Aidan advised once they were home again and the third evening was growing dark. ‘Laughlin must reply soon.’

‘He can be… inattentive. You know that as well as I.’

‘Surely not in these important matters. Not when it would suit him and his pride to have you with me rather than here. Start packing. Take anything you want. If we cannot carry it with us, I’ll have it sent on.’

‘All right,’ Colin agreed, and began desultorily gathering together his own possessions. He’d brought almost nothing with him to his new home, to his new life. He’d take very little away, and nothing that belonged to Bradley. Nothing that belonged to Bradley except for Colin himself. He sighed – and in the same moment heard a whisper of movement from outside the house. ‘Did you hear that?’ he asked his cousin.

‘I did hear you sighing so very sadly, yes. Thank you for remarking upon it.’

‘Not that.’ Colin shivered. ‘I’ve been listening to too many ghost stories lately.’ He ran his fingertips along the book–spines on the shelves in the front room, loath to take them away – not because Bradley would be grateful for them, but because this was their home.

‘There are libraries – in fact, there is a library in each house I own. I’ll admit I don’t use them half so much as I ought, but I’m sure you’ll find everything you need there.’

‘I’m sure.’

‘You could show a little enthusiasm,’ Aidan chided. ‘For my sake, at least. I am being the soul of patience for _your_ sake.’

‘You ask a great deal,’ Colin protested, though he kept his tone equable. _Let no man put us asunder,_ Colin had vowed after he and Bradley had finally made each other whole. _No man ever will,_ Bradley had replied.

‘Stop,’ said Aidan. ‘You’re thinking of him, and I won’t have it.’

‘You really do ask too much. Aidan, please, you –’ Colin paused again, and looked towards the window. ‘I swear that it sounds as if someone’s out there.’

‘Who would be skulking around the house at this time on a moonless night?’

‘ _He can’t get in_ ,’ Colin whispered, reassuring himself. ‘ _He can’t get in._ ’

‘ _Who_ can’t?’ Aidan sighed in annoyance. ‘Colin – have you done something stupid?’

‘No! You know all I’ve done, such as it is. As Edward said: the stakes are too high to play.’

Aidan considered him for a long moment, his eyes glittering hard. ‘I’m tiring of this,’ he finally announced.

‘You began it,’ Colin said, and he added over his shoulder as he made his way to the kitchen: ‘You could end it.’

‘I could, couldn’t I?’

‘You could walk away right now, and no one need ever be any the wiser.’

‘Oh, I think not… There are other ways to conclude the matter.’ Aidan had followed him, and now approached Colin where he was sorting out the washed–and–dried crockery left on the kitchen table after their meal. ‘I think it’s time to make you mine. To put this beyond any doubt.’

‘Aidan, you promised –’

The man was suddenly right _there_ , right beside Colin, grabbing Colin’s upper arm to wrench him around. ‘Don’t trouble me with details.’

‘No, I –’

Aidan’s mouth was on his – lips on Colin’s that weren’t Bradley’s – and he panicked, tried to pull away, but Aidan’s grip on him was too harsh, fingers clenched so tight on Colin’s arm and now his jaw that they’d leave bruises.

In the midst of which there was a definite footfall on the flagstones outside the back door. ‘Aidan!’ he said into the kiss, if kiss it was. ‘Stop. There _is_ someone –’

‘Be quiet.’ Aidan broke away, and his hand dropped from Colin’s arm, but only to start tugging at the buttons to Colin’s trousers.

‘God! Stop that! You can’t mean to –’

A backhanded slap swung hard enough to make Colin’s ears ring, swiftly followed by another. _‘Be quiet.’_

‘I will never – I will never –’

‘It’s time to pay the price, sweet cousin of mine.’

‘I will _never_ be yours.’

‘Yes, you will. Any moment now…’

A third huge slap, and the night sky fell from the ceiling. Hardness against his cheek, which he belatedly registered as the wooden table – he was bent over, held down, and he felt cool air at his nethers, and – ‘Aidan – _stop_  –’

‘Wentworth won’t want you after this. You’ll resign yourself –’

‘Never – Never –’

‘You asked what it’s like, lover – to be the one possessed. Let me teach you…’

A door slamming open, and Colin was relief and shame and urgency all at once. ‘Help me,’ he begged. ‘For the love of God, whoever you are – _help me_ …’

‘My lord – if you’d be so good as to step away –’

‘Laughlin!’ Aidan cried in surprise – though he didn’t move. ‘What on earth stirred you enough to bring you here?’

‘Concern for my brother’s affairs.’

‘Oh _right_ … As if you actually care.’ Aidan leaned his weight into the hand with which he was pinning Colin down so that Colin had to gasp shallowly for air. ‘You _did_ do something stupid, didn’t you, my love?’

Colin couldn’t respond, but he heard the snick of a pistol being cocked, and Laughlin said, ‘My lord, if you please…’ And when Aidan finally let go and backed away, Laughlin continued, ‘Colin. Get up and make yourself decent.’

He pushed himself off the table, hauled his trousers up, then sank to the nearest chair. ‘Laughlin, thank you, I –’

Laughlin stood there in his travelling coat, pistol held unwaveringly on the cousin he respected more than anyone else in the entire family. More than everyone else put together. Aidan stood opposite him, cool and pretending amusement. ‘My lord,’ said Laughlin, ‘your room at the inn awaits you. I bid them light a fire and prepare it. Colin – you will pack the viscount’s belongings.’ And after a still moment, ‘ _Now_ , Colin.’

‘Will you be –’

‘I’ll be fine. We’ll be exactly thus on your return.’

‘Oh God,’ he muttered as he pushed himself upright again, and began re–buttoning his trousers as he walked into the hall. He felt horribly dizzy as he made his way up the stairs, but he had to do this. He had to do this. He passed the place where he and Bradley had first made love, and he almost fell to his knees to reconnect with the sweet memories, but he knew he wouldn’t get up again if he indulged himself – so he kept going, and made his way to the spare bedroom, the one they pretended was Bradley’s, and he began gathering Aidan’s belongings.

Aidan was neat, and had perhaps been expecting to leave soon. It didn’t take long. Then Colin made his way back downstairs, leaning against the wall for support.

Laughlin was still there in the kitchen, the pistol true in his steady right hand. Aidan had sat down, though, half turned away with his legs crossed, smiling mockingly to himself. ‘Is that everything?’ Laughlin asked.

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll be on your way, then, my lord.’ But when after a moment Aidan stood, Laughlin continued, ‘I’d meet you at dawn, if I thought you could find a second here. If you ever come near Colin again, I’ll challenge you formally. You might have underestimated my fraternal loyalty, but you needn’t underestimate my skills with a gun.’

‘If you think you’re defending your brother’s virtue, Laughlin, I suspect you’ll find he has very little left.’

‘You don’t need to make insinuations. I know everything there is to know about Colin, and I’m here standing by him. You might like to take that into consideration from now on.’

Colin was probably even more flabbergasted by all this than Aidan, but he thought to say to Laughlin, ‘He was going to destroy Bradley, too.’

Laughlin just nodded, once and decisively. ‘Captain Wentworth is a fighting man, and hardly needs my protection. But know this, my lord: the connection between the Wentworths and the Crofts and our family is of the closest kind. Any insult to them is an insult to me.’

Aidan barked out a laugh, obviously sincerely doubting that Laughlin knew what on earth he was talking about – and Colin spied a crack in Laughlin’s composure for the briefest moment. But perhaps Aidan didn’t see it, for he simply murmured, ‘Oh, Laughlin, you fool…’

‘The house key,’ Colin prompted – and Aidan drew it out of his coat pocket, and dropped it to the table.

‘You’ll be on your way,’ Laughlin pointedly repeated.

And Aidan lifted his chin in curt acknowledgement, picked up his bag, and walked out through the front door.

Laughlin at last let his right hand rest at his side, though the gun was still cocked and ready. The two brothers listened to the footfalls as Aidan strode down the path. Then Laughlin said tersely, ‘I’ll shadow him. Make sure he does actually go to the inn. You’ll be all right until I get back?’

‘Yes.’

‘If you’re concussed, don’t fall asleep for you might never wake. Lock the door after me.’

‘All right.’ Colin followed his brother through to the hallway. ‘Laughlin, please, I –’

But Laughlin just nodded, and slipped out the door.

Colin still felt hazy, and the places where Aidan had struck him were beginning to ache horribly, but he was eager to talk with Laughlin as soon as he returned. ‘What made you –? I hardly dared hope that – Is he really gone? Laughlin, my God, I have to thank you –’

‘Tea,’ said Laughlin, striding back into the kitchen with Colin babbling at his heels. ‘Make a pot of tea, would you? D’you _really_ keep no servants?’

‘Of course,’ Colin muttered as he went to stoke up the fire, ‘of course. And no, we don’t.’ He swivelled to look at his brother. ‘Um… When you said you know everything about me… did you mean that?’

‘No.’ Laughlin was sitting at the table with the pistol placed before him, leaning his head heavily on one hand – beginning to look far more like the indolent Laughlin with whom Colin was so familiar. ‘No, though I am beginning to guess – and _I don’t want to know_ , Colin. You were right to retire from society. Really, no one could possibly countenance –’

‘Why did you help me then?’ Colin retorted. ‘If I’m so far beyond the pale.’

‘I was… curious. That you should write such a letter to me. Obviously the viscount had no idea you’d never address me thus.’

‘Laughlin –’

‘I had little better to do,’ Laughlin said, overriding him. ‘And I wanted to see if –’

‘If your suspicions were correct,’ Colin supplied, bitterly. ‘Well, I am still grateful, though you make it as difficult as you may…’

‘Is that water boiling yet?’ Laughlin sighed. ‘Father and I have been quite successful in retrenching. The Crofts have had a bumper year at Kellynch, and increased their rents without any prompting from us, while Bath is surprisingly rewarding for little outlay. It has been a tedious process – however, the family fortunes are looking a little brighter.’

‘I’m glad.’

‘I’ll arrange an annuity for you.’

‘What?’

‘At least enough to – to hire a servant or two, and pay for their unswerving loyalty.’

Colin sank to sit in the nearest chair. ‘Laughlin –’

‘It comes with conditions, of course.’

‘Of course.’

‘You will live a quiet life. You will not mix in society.’

‘That is all I want, so long as I am with Bradley.’

Laughlin shook his head in ironic disbelief. ‘You should travel on the Continent. You’d be so much safer there. You shouldn’t come back.’

‘This is our home, Laughlin. England is our _home_.’

‘Well. Be that as it may. Once I have left here, I am no longer your brother. Don’t visit us, don’t write to us on any matter other than business.’

Colin stared at him across the expanse of table. ‘Laughlin… After all you’ve just done for me. All you speak of doing. Will you never again acknowledge me?’

‘No, never.’

‘Oh, Laughlin…’ He was stricken.

But his brother simply grimaced at him, and asked, ‘Where’s that tea, then?’

The following day was Sunday, so they attended the morning service led by Edward, and sat in the front pew beside Emily. Colin only had time to name them to each other in a whisper, so of course Emily was all a–fidget to know why Laughlin was there beside Colin and Aidan wasn’t. They could hardly discuss the matter then and there, but when Colin performed the proper introductions after the service, Emily held onto Laughlin’s hand for longer than strictly necessary, and insisted, ‘You will come for dinner, of course, Mr Elliot. It is quite an ingrained habit of ours, to have Colin – and Bradley when he’s here – share our dinner on Wednesdays and Sundays. And today is Sunday, so you must join us, you really must.’

‘My dear,’ Edward murmured, ‘perhaps Mr Elliot has other plans…’

‘No. Of course I’d be delighted,’ Laughlin replied, though Colin could hear that this was little more than brusque politeness. ‘Thank you, Mrs Wentworth.’

But of course Laughlin was loath to acknowledge this had been anything other than a social visit to Shropshire, so Emily’s curiosity had to wait until she retired from the table. Colin excused himself and went with her, and spun a tale that omitted any mention of attempted assault or drawn pistols. The essentials became, ‘Aidan was beginning to get rather insistent about me leaving with him, but Laughlin arrived just in time and saw him off.’

‘Oh, that’s _marvellous_.’ Emily was happily holding Colin’s hand, entwining her fingers with his. ‘Oh, I’m so very glad… But are you sure that he’s gone?’

‘Yes, we went to the inn after the service, and they said he’d left early this morning.’

‘And Bradley will be safe?’

‘I believe so.’ Surely Aidan realised he no longer had anything to gain… Colin frowned.

Emily lifted the back of Colin’s hand to her own downturned cheek. ‘I’m so sorry that –’

‘Don’t pay it any mind,’ Colin assured her.

‘I _so_ wanted to help –’

‘I know, my dear friend, but it’s over now. Don’t fret about it.’

‘There’s something I should tell you –’

But then Edward and Laughlin finally joined them, and the matter was forgot.

### Chapter Four

Once the other children had left the schoolhouse on Monday afternoon, Percival’s eerie wide eyes stared solemnly at Colin from across his desk, and after a heartfelt pause the boy announced, ‘My father says it’s an impossible scheme, sir.’ He meant the grammar school in Shrewsbury, of course.

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Colin responded. ‘Is it – May I ask? Is it a matter of the expense involved?’

‘It is partly that, sir. But mostly it is that I am expected to work on the farm, and learn farming, for that is my future.’

‘Is it? I mean, _need_ it be? You’re a second son, as I am, aren’t you, Percival?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Well, we have a wider choice of paths than our older brothers, you know. We have at least that advantage, even if we must make our own way.’

‘But if I went to grammar school, sir, what then? My father fears the only thing I would learn was to be dissatisfied with my lot.’

‘With your capacity for language and storytelling, Percival, you could win a scholarship to a college, and then enter one of the professions. Doesn’t that appeal to you?’

Percival shrugged. ‘Maybe, sir.’

‘If you’re honestly interested in farming, don’t let me dissuade you. But I want you to be aware that you have choices.’

‘I understand, sir. But, then – what use is there in being able to tell a story? It is entertaining, Mr Elliot, and nothing more.’

‘For heaven’s sake, is that your parents talking?’ Colin held up a hand to forestall the answer. ‘I’m sorry, just ignore that. It’s not that I don’t respect their opinions, Percival – but stories are how we understand things. When I plan a lesson, when Edward writes a sermon – when a barrister presents his case to a judge and jury, or when any man tries to convince another of something vital – when a man woos his sweetheart and describes his hopes for their married life together – all these rely on narrative, whether you are required to stay with the facts or you are at liberty to embellish them with imagination. You gain your listener’s interest when you begin, you lead him through the middle, you reach a conclusion that you’ve convincingly illustrated along the way. If he doesn’t agree with you, then you might together negotiate a new story. Do you understand me?’

‘Yes, sir,’ Percival replied a little faintly.

‘And that’s saying nothing of the work you might do that revolves around writing, whether fictional or not.’ Colin went to fetch one of the chairs, and placed it beside the desk so they could talk a little more closely. ‘Come and sit down. Am I scaring you?’

‘A little, sir.’ He offered a wan smile. ‘It’s not just telling ghost stories, then.’

‘No, but it’s the same principle, put to different ends, with different effects.’

Percival pondered this for a while. Eventually he said, ‘I suppose I need to tell the story to my parents of why I should do this.’

‘Exactly.’ Colin smiled at him, but then frowned down at his own hands where they were clasped together on the desk. ‘Look, if money is an issue – Well, I’m sure you realise I have some resources beyond my wages. But I’m afraid it’s not really enough to – I mean, I could _help_  – Though you might not appreciate how important it is that I keep my independence.’

‘Sir, you don’t have to explain. No one expects any such thing from you.’

Colin sighed. ‘Do they not?’ A silence fell while Colin wrestled with himself, because while he might be able to afford one such generous impulse, he would be a fool to surrender to more and leave himself even more vulnerable than he already was. Though maybe that was the answer. Help Percival, whom he admired and was undeniably fond of, but then restrain himself from becoming involved in any similar situations. Helping one other person in his life wasn’t a bad thing, and why shouldn’t it be Percival? ‘Perhaps –’ he finally began.

Just as Percival said, ‘Sir –’

‘Yes, my dear?’

‘I just wanted to say – Mr Elliot, you look so much better today.’

‘Oh!’ Colin blinked in surprise. ‘I’m sorry. I’ve had a difficult few days. I thought I’d… hidden that well enough.’

‘I’m sure you did, sir. I’m sure few people were any the wiser.’

‘But you saw it…’ Colin shook his head. ‘On top of everything else, you’re observant, Percival. I would so very much like it if you could continue your schooling.’

‘ _Your looks were pale and wild and did import some misadventure_ ,’ the boy intoned.

‘And you quote Shakespeare so aptly! Be still, my beating heart… Well, my young friend, you were not deceived. But all is well now.’ He stood, and reached to solemnly shake Percival’s hand. ‘If you want to go to Shrewsbury, then talk again with your parents. I’m sure we can sort out the practicalities between us, if you can only gain their blessing.’

‘Thank you, sir. No matter what happens, sir, I’ll never forget you.’

‘Nor I you, Percival. Good evening, my dear.’

‘Good evening, Mr Elliot.’ And the boy left.

Colin collapsed down into his chair and chastised himself for not better keeping his turmoil to himself.

On the Wednesday evening, after another stilted dinner with Edward and Emily in which nothing of any significance was said, Colin lay alone on the bed he shared with Bradley. He lay alone and naked, with his head at the foot of the bed so he could watch the moon travel in its slow arc across the window panes. So he could let its cool blue beams pin him down against the sheets. He hadn’t touched himself for so long. At first he’d wanted to wait for Bradley, and then even though he’d been almost unwillingly stirred by Aidan’s explicit talk he’d been embarrassed by the thought that his house guest would know exactly what he was doing, and then of course he’d been too horror–struck to want any pleasure at all. But now… now as his life was settling again into its familiar quiet patterns… now Colin felt that he wanted the comfort and the release he’d sought before. And there was the notion that… even though it came from Aidan, the notion itself was sound… the idea had been irresistibly planted in his mind, that he might use his own fingers on himself… _in_ himself… and learn more about what made Bradley gasp, what made him glow feverishly hot, what made him gaze up at Colin in such utter surrender, completely undone. Simply the intent combined with the vivid memories had hardened him until he ached for his own touch, and the merest skitter of fingertips down his length had his breath hissing and his back arching. Oh, making love with Bradley again would be glorious, but in the meantime this would be fine, this would be so very fine that he –

A quiet knocking at the back door, which was just below the bedroom, and a low tense, _‘ **Col** in.’_

He sat up abruptly, the fear returning as a lump of ice in his gut. Was it Aidan returned to claim him by force, Edward come with frightful news, the ghost of the farmer stricken and mad and forever yearning for the home he’d lost through his own violence…?

 _‘ **Colin!** Let me in. It’s Charles!’_

 _‘Charles?’_ Colin whispered in shock, scrambling to understand. His brother–in–law, Colin’s dear friend and Maura’s husband. Charles, who had never visited Colin here, no doubt due to Maura’s snobbery. Colin clambered out of bed, quickly dragged on trousers and a shirt, before padding downstairs barefoot. ‘Charles?’ he asked again once he’d unlocked the back door. ‘What are you –?’

 _‘Hush…’_ Charles crowded him, pushed him inside, then swung the door quietly closed behind them. ‘There’s someone skulking about out there. Gave me quite a fright. Thank God I found the right house! But I waited until he’d gone around towards the front again… he might have even been heading back to the village.’

‘Oh, Charles…’ Colin had clutched the man’s hand in fear. ‘Who was it? Did you see?’

‘No. No, it was too dark.’

‘Was it… a man or a ghost?’

Charles stared at him with all his bluff English good nature. ‘A man, my friend; a man, of course. What’s got into you…?’ Suddenly Charles broke into a smile. ‘Oh, Colin, it does me good to see you again. We have missed you so much. _I_  have missed you –’

‘Charles…’ Colin lifted the man’s hand, to hold the back of it against his own cheek. ‘I have missed you, too.’

They were still huddled together near the back door. ‘But tell me what’s going on,’ Charles demanded. ‘The letter was so vague. I would have seen that chap off, if I’d had any real idea of what’s happening, but I wasn’t sure what to do for the best.’

‘The letter…? What letter?’

There was movement from the front of the house, whether it was caused by the wind or a man or a ghost…

 _‘Can we just hide?’_ Colin whispered. ‘I want to hide – for now. I want to – at least postpone any confrontation. D’you think me too unmanly? Come down to the cellar with me. No one could possibly know we’re there. I’ll tell you what’s been happening, and then we can work out what to do.’

Charles sighed. One of his hands was still trapped in Colin’s, but he lifted the other one to run knuckles down Colin’s cheek. ‘My sweet good man. Take me down to the cellar. And then whatever we decide that I must do, I will happily do for you.’

Colin interleaved his fingers anew with Charles’ and began telling him the story that began with Bradley’s absence and Aidan’s arrival. The two of them were seated on the cellar floor with their backs to the cool solidity of a brick wall, Colin with his legs curled under him, and Charles with his stretched out straight. Of course there was a gap at the heart of the narrative, and Colin wondered how much Charles would understand of the motivations and desires involved, but he sat there quietly with what appeared to be comprehension on his face. And once Colin had concluded with Laughlin’s departure on Monday morning, Charles nodded. ‘Now you suspect that the viscount has come back to insist.’

‘Perhaps he has. And I cannot risk –’ Colin stumbled verbally again. He hadn’t specified which Article of War Bradley was supposed to be in contravention of, but had made plain that it incurred the direst penalty. ‘I cannot risk Bradley’s reputation being sullied with accusations, even if they come to naught.’

‘D’you know…’ Charles slowly mused, ‘when I received her letter, my first thought was what on earth anyone could hold over two such wonderful God–fearing men of honour.’

‘Whose letter?’ Colin asked, his strong curiosity also serving as a convenient diversion.

‘Mrs Wentworth wrote me. In very vague terms, I may add, but enough to alert me that you were being forced to agree to something you didn’t want, and that some kind of danger was involved for Captain Wentworth.’

‘And so you came.’ Again Colin lifted the back of Charles’ hand to his cheek. ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come immediately.’

‘You’re here now, and I suspect I might need help as much today as when this began.’

Charles turned his head to consider Colin curled up there beside him, with innocent flesh pressed against innocent flesh, and he murmured, ‘All right. Colin. Yes, I understand now.’

Colin lifted his head, gaze fixed by Charles’ stunned sense of wonder. ‘Oh, Charles…’ he breathed. ‘Charles, I’m _sorry_.’

‘I’ve been half–in–love with you myself, haven’t I?’

‘No. _No._ You and Maura – _that’s_ what is real.’

‘Is it due to something within me, or something within you? Or both! Perhaps I was responding to –’

‘No. You mustn’t doubt yourself now. We’ve been friends, Charles, you and I. You’ve always been such a good friend to me, and you’re being a truly excellent friend today.’

‘How you must have laughed at me! Oh, and all of Mama’s jokes about me wanting to marry you if I could…’

‘I never laughed, Charles. And I never misunderstood your kindness towards me, I promise.’

‘No, I am suitably chastened. I’ve been a complete dunderhead. It’s a wonder you haven’t lost patience with me a hundred times.’

Colin allowed himself a quiet chuckle. ‘Stop this! You are magnificent not to be horrified and leave me to my dire fate as the unnatural thing I am.’

‘Oh God, of _course_ I won’t abandon you.’

‘Then tell me – d’you think that was Aidan out there? Skulking around, as you put it.’

‘It could have been. He kept to the shadows, but it could well have been. What could he possibly intend at this point? Carrying you off by force?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘This is more fanciful than one of Mrs Radcliffe’s novels!’ Charles looked shifty for a moment. ‘Which I’ve never read, of course. They are Maura’s. She tells me about them.’

‘Of course.’ Colin chuckled again. ‘Oh, you do my heart such good, Charles.’

‘Right. Well.’ Charles’ expression turned determined. ‘What do we do about this importunate man?’

But even as Colin began to reply, there came the sound of a scuffle outside, and then after a pause the front door slammed open. Colin and Charles sat there listening, utterly still with their breath drawn. Then someone cried in angry tones, ‘Get in there, damn you! The kitchen’s ahead of you. _Come on,_ you’re not so badly hurt as that… Oh…’ Somewhat mystified now: ‘What on earth are _you_ doing here?’

And Colin looked at Charles, and said, ‘It’s Bradley.’

They reached the kitchen to find Aidan slumped on a chair with blood on his brow, and Bradley wringing out a cloth over a bowl of water. Bradley handsome in his naval uniform and windswept golden hair. Bradley instinctively smiling as he saw Colin appear in the doorway – though his expression became complicated again soon enough. ‘Colin! I’m sorry.’ He gestured at Aidan, and then began mopping at the slight wound on his head. ‘I didn’t know who it was. He came at me suddenly, in the darkest part of the lane where the trees overhang the road: I thought he was a robber!’

‘Bradley –’

‘I didn’t realise until I’d got him here in the light that it was your cousin.’ Bradley turned back to rinse out the cloth, and saw Colin’s companion. They were still holding hands, but Bradley didn’t seem to think anything of that. ‘Charles! How very good to see you. It’s a strange night for visitors, isn’t it?’

‘It’s very good to see you, too,’ Charles said.

‘Bradley,’ Colin tried again. ‘I’m glad you’re home –’

‘Well, don’t get too comfortable; it’s a flying visit…’ Bradley frowned as Aidan moaned a bit piteously under his ministrations. ‘Look. My lord. I didn’t hit you that hard. It’s not like I cracked your skull or anything. It’s a flesh wound! They always seem worse than they really are on the head, what with all the blood.’

‘Bradley –’

‘Where are all the letters you promised me? I got back to Portsmouth, and there was one letter anticipating more, but no more to be had.’

‘Is that what prompted you to come?’

Bradley glanced at Aidan, who seemed oblivious and was actually groaning, and at Charles, who still held Colin’s hand in his, and said, ‘Well. Yes. I didn’t know whether to be worried or not. Though I wouldn’t have been able to get away if it wasn’t for Young and your friend Dempsie being well able to supervise the fitting of a new mizzenmast in the absence of a proper carpenter.’

Colin let out a gurgle that might have been a giggle under other circumstances. He lifted Charles’ hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it, and let the man go. Went to sit in the nearest chair. ‘I had need of you, but I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t think you’d realise what the lack of letters meant. Well, I didn’t think of it at all, to be honest, though now it strikes me as rather a good strategy. I’m _very_ glad you’re home.’ He indicated Aidan, who was dazedly rolling his head around while Bradley tried to hold him still and finish cleaning him. ‘You have no need to be so gentle. Aidan has been causing rather a lot of trouble.’

‘Has he? He seems in no fit state to be causing anything right now.’ Bradley sighed, and took a step back to consider the man. ‘What’s wrong with him? I swear to God I didn’t hit him that hard!’

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he was in fine form this past Saturday. He was trying to force me to return to Ireland with him.’

‘What?!’ Bradley dropped the cloth in the bowl, and turned to stare at Colin.

‘You don’t need to know the details,’ Colin said, waving a dismissive hand. ‘It’s over now. I’m sure it’s over. Laughlin actually came and scared him off. I’m rather surprised to see Aidan back here, to be honest.’

‘And, Charles,’ Bradley said, walking over to stand by Colin and lay a friendly reassuring hand on his shoulder – from which vantage point he looked with earnest gratitude at Colin’s brother–in–law. ‘Charles, my good man. You came to help as well.’

‘Very belatedly,’ Charles said with an apologetic shrug – ‘but of course I couldn’t refuse a request from Mrs Wentworth.’

‘Not late at all. In fact, just at the right time, apparently, with this one still hanging around.’

Aidan groaned and muttered something to himself, while the others all stared at him in some confusion and varying degrees of wariness or disdain.

‘You should tell him all,’ said Charles to Colin. ‘Tell Bradley what the viscount threatened you with.’

‘He doesn’t need to know,’ Colin insisted, fearing that the certainty of real danger would outweigh the relief at it being averted.

‘Yes, he does.’ Charles gestured at Aidan. ‘If you let this one go without him making binding promises, you take a deuce of a risk.’

‘Tell me,’ Bradley said tersely.

So Colin did, while Aidan slumped there, occasionally muttering nonsense, apparently not hearing them nor even knowing where he was.

Once Colin was done, Bradley’s mouth set thin and his hand went to the hilt of his sword as he turned a fierce gaze upon Aidan.

‘You _mustn’t_ ,’ Colin insisted, suddenly even more scared for Bradley’s sake than he had been before. ‘Bradley – you mustn’t even think of it!’

‘I have killed men in battle, you know.’

‘We are not at war.’

‘Yes, we are. It’s our lives we’ll forfeit, if we let him go.’

‘It’s your soul you’ll forfeit, if you do this – and maybe your life as well.’

‘Your love?’ Bradley asked, turning back to face Colin, and seemingly determined to ask despite the fact they were in company. ‘Would I forfeit your love?’

Colin sighed, and shook his head. ‘No, I suppose you wouldn’t. I suspect you’ll never lose that. But you’d destroy my peace of mind.’

At which Bradley sighed, too, and sat down beside Colin. Then after a long moment, something occurred to him, and Bradley said to Charles, ‘So Emily wrote to you. I hope she didn’t write to Sophia as well.’

Charles frowned for a moment as he searched his memory. ‘Her letter seemed to indicate she was only writing to me. But I can’t be entirely sure, of course. Why d’you ask?’

‘Wouldn’t Mrs Croft be rather magnificent in such a crisis?’ Colin asked with a wistful smile. ‘I can just imagine her seeing Aidan off, all righteous indignation, and threatening him with her riding crop!’

Bradley smiled. ‘You paint a very good likeness of my sister, and I love her dearly. But…’ His smile twisted a little. ‘She is even more steeped in naval tradition than I am. I can’t imagine that Sophia or the Admiral would have much sympathy for our cause.’ He nodded at Charles. ‘Emily chose perfectly, when she wrote to you, my friend.’

‘I am honoured that you should think so, for all the good I’ve done.’

‘Well,’ said Bradley, ‘this is a long way from over. We have to think on this. What can we reasonably do?’

Charles sat down, too, and they all stared earnestly at their hands each fisted or spread on the table. And they sighed.

Aidan laughed, a tad hysterically.

‘Good God,’ Bradley cried. ‘It seems half the men in England are in love with you, Colin – and here’s one you’ve driven mad!’

‘No…’ he miserably responded. ‘Don’t lay such a charge at my door. I never meant him any real harm, even when he threatened his worst.’

‘The problem is,’ Charles observed, ‘how can you trust him when he’s in such a state, even if he _does_ promise to do you no further harm?’

‘Exactly,’ said Bradley. ‘What do you propose we do with him, Colin? We could keep him here for a while, I suppose, but he’ll want to leave sooner or later, and we can hardly hold a viscount against his will. There will be questions asked; someone will come looking for him eventually.’

 _‘Colin… my sweet cousin… sweet delectable cousin o’ mine…’_

The three of them stared at the man for a long quiet moment, with a confused, resentful kind of pity –

When there was an abrupt knock at the door.

They all started in surprise, except for Aidan, who seemed intent only on trying to focus on Colin.

‘And that’s Edward, I suppose,’ Bradley muttered. ‘What a night! But who else could it be at this hour?’

‘I don’t know.’ Colin had clutched at Bradley’s hand in instinctive fear.

‘I’ll go,’ Charles offered, already standing. ‘If I may.’

‘Please. Bring him through.’ And then, in the relative privacy, Bradley shifted his other hand to encompass Colin’s, and turned to him, gaze dwelling on the faded bruises on Colin’s jaw. Bradley leaned in close to murmur, ‘Are you all right? Colin? He has harmed you.’

‘No, I’m fine. I’ve been… troubled. I was afraid for you, that was the worst of it.’

‘Well, there is no need to fear now.’ And for a long peaceful precious moment they rested brow to brow. Until Charles returned, and Bradley straightened up, saying, ‘So, Edward –’

Except that it wasn’t Edward. An elderly gentleman had followed Charles into the kitchen, and now stood there staring with cold ferocity at Aidan. Charles shrugged a little in apology, and murmured, ‘He said he has urgent business with the viscount.’

‘I see,’ said Bradley, standing up and unhurriedly disengaging from Colin. ‘How might we help you, sir? Do you know anything of the viscount’s recent affairs?’

The gentleman seemed intent only on Aidan. Strangely, though he was otherwise dressed unexceptionally, he had a fine sword buckled round his waist, and his hand settled on the hilt of it just as Bradley’s had reached for his own. Aidan remained oblivious. ‘My name is Richard Wilson. I intend to issue this man a challenge,’ the old man announced, ‘if any of you would care to act as his second.’

‘Ah. I don’t know that any of us would be able to oblige you, sir. In any case, he is hardly in a fit state to answer you at present.’

‘What he has done… was so horrendous… I feel very little need to observe the niceties.’

Colin stood then, pushing to his feet so his chair scraped back across the flagstones. ‘Viscount Dalrymple is my cousin, sir, and I’ll thank you to treat him with the honour befitting a gentleman.’

The old man had at last dragged his gaze away from Aidan as Colin spoke – and now he stood there staring, his mouth parted in shock, his right eyebrow arching in hope, in disbelief. _‘Nicholas!’_ he cried.

Colin glanced to either side, but it was obvious that it was him being addressed. ‘No, sir. My name is Colin Elliot.’

‘No. Of course… Of course… I apologise.’ For a moment Wilson’s tall stance wavered, he leaned his free hand against the table edge, as if he bore an impossible weight, and –

Aidan shouted out a laugh. _‘Nicholas!’_ he crowed in an unholy echo. ‘Oh yes – now you know why – why it had to be him – who Nicholas reminded me of –’

‘You will answer for what you’ve done,’ Wilson ground out, his age only adding gravitas to his promise.

‘You wouldn’t take care of him,’ Aidan taunted – ‘I took care of him for you…’

‘You name what you did _taking care_?’

Quietly undercutting the heated exchange, Bradley asked, ‘What did the viscount do?’

‘What’s wrong with you two?’ Aidan continued, addressing the old man and Bradley. ‘Brave enough to love, but not to possess. You’re hardly fit to be named men.’

‘At least,’ Wilson responded, ‘we are fit to be named gentlemen.’

Which was an unforgiveable insult, of course – but Aidan simply hooted with laughter, and squirmed around on his chair.

‘What did he do?’ Bradley asked again.

‘My nephew Nicholas worked as his secretary and companion in County Armagh. And – and three weeks ago he died. Under circumstances that – I had been travelling to visit him. I had been anticipating – so eagerly – our reunion. I arrived to find Nicholas dead and this one absent. They’d found him a short way outside a neighbouring village. His body – I saw his body – and –’ A sob welled up and choked him into silence.

‘He was moaning with enjoyment for most of it,’ Aidan supplied. ‘It was only towards the end that he began to scream.’

Colin stared at the viscount in horror.

‘My lord,’ Bradley asked firmly, ‘are you admitting to doing this man Nicholas harm? Such great harm as to cause his death?’

Aidan’s careless gesture seemed to dismiss the question as irrelevant, but Wilson announced, ‘He killed my dear Nicholas. He ended his life in the most pitiful and painful manner. And he will pay for it.’

Charles at last contributed to the conversation: ‘You must have recourse to the law, sir.’

‘No. No. I tried. But this one had arranged it so that everyone believed him to have left the County two days before. And no one would quite comprehend that a viscount… Indeed, there was a strong supposition that Nicholas had met with some kind of accident or misadventure, and had then been mauled by an animal of some kind – which might seem likely, though I knew better. When it was clear the law would be of no help, I came to find him myself.’

‘So you will challenge him,’ Charles concluded. ‘Well, and I heartily wish the matter will go your way. It must go your way! I’m tempted to offer myself as his second simply for the sake of seeing justice done.’

‘You _can’t_ , Charles!’ Colin protested.

Wilson drew his sword with a shrill ring, and pointed it towards the floor at the viscount’s feet. ‘Will you meet me, Dalrymple, and answer for Nicholas’s death?’

Aidan did nothing but giggle.

‘You _can’t_ , Mr Wilson,’ Bradley insisted, stepping forward. ‘As you can see very well, he’s in no fit state to answer for anything.’

‘He died screaming…’ Aidan said slowly, as if full of wonder, ‘and I was screaming, too… I had broken him open, and I was as deep inside him as one man can possibly be in another…’

Wilson growled in furious disgust, and lifted his sword to point towards Aidan’s blackened heart –

‘And when he died, he shuddered… and I died and shuddered, too…’

 _‘You are evil incarnate, and you deserve worse than to die.’_

‘But you are a gentleman, and all you can do is kill me.’

‘Then I will,’ the man promised.

‘Stand firm!’ Aidan cried –

And he launched off the chair and at Wilson in one strong lunge –

And Wilson did indeed stand firm, until Aidan – impaled now upon Wilson’s sword – pressed his chest against the cross–guard – and then Wilson let go of the hilt, and stepped aside.

Aidan collapsed to the floor, and Colin fell to his knees beside him. ‘Aidan! My God, _Aidan!’_ The sword kept him propped on his side, but Colin’s hands gently cupped his face and turned it towards him. Colin leant in close. ‘Aidan…’

His breath was shallow and ragged, and a bubble of blood appeared on his lips, and then another – but he managed a tiny sharp little smile, and muttered, ‘Colin – sweet coz – come – live with me –’

‘And be my love,’ Colin murmured. And the smile grew – and then the light in Aidan’s eyes went out, and Colin lowered his head in grief for the man Aidan had used to be and all the wholesome possibilities he’d left behind weeks or months before.

When Colin stood, though, he was calm, for the man his cousin had become could not be mourned for long.

‘I am sorry,’ Wilson said, stiffly, but not wretchedly. ‘I am sorry for your sake. But Nicholas was… a truly wonderful young man. And very dear to me.’

‘He was your love,’ Colin said simply.

 _‘He was my love,’_ Wilson echoed in a whisper. Perhaps it was the first time he’d ever dared to share such a sentiment with another person. ‘Oh, he looked so very much like you, Mr Elliot…’ And then he was weeping, and Colin was weeping – Colin went to him, and they stood there holding each other in a close embrace until they both quieted.

By which time Bradley and Charles had stretched out Aidan on the flagstones, and Bradley was polishing Wilson’s sword while Charles cleaned the blood from the floor.

‘I will fetch my horse,’ said Wilson. ‘I will bear him away. You do not need to deal with any of this, and if there are questions to be answered then I alone will answer them.’

‘No,’ said Colin. ‘You must go free and leave him here. We will lay him to rest beneath the rose bushes, and I will watch over him. Bradley – do you agree? This is your home, after all.’

‘Yes.’ Bradley nodded, just once and decisively. ‘If that is what you want, Colin, then of course I agree. And it is _our_ home.’

‘Thank you, my love.’

‘All right. Charles, come and help me. There are two shovels here.’

‘Where will you go?’ Colin asked when it was just him and Wilson in the kitchen, sitting next together beside Aidan’s body. Aidan looked more peaceful than Colin had ever seen him. ‘What will you do now?’

Long moments passed while Wilson thought about this. Perhaps he hadn’t expected his life to continue beyond this meeting with Dalrymple. ‘I will return to Ireland.’

‘Armagh?’

‘Yes. They buried Nicholas there, in a corner of a little churchyard. I will… keep him company, until such time as I can join him in the next life.’

‘He will wait patiently for you.’

‘I hope he may,’ Wilson responded quietly, obviously unused to having anyone assume Nicholas might welcome his companionship.

‘He will rest easy in the meantime, with you attending him. But he will want you to find some enjoyment in the life that remains to you.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Yes, he would want that.’ And Wilson wept a little, peacefully. ‘Thank you, Mr Elliot. You have been far _far_ kinder to me than I deserve.’

‘You’re welcome, my dear. You’re so very welcome.’ Colin lifted the man’s hand, pressed the back of it to his cheek and then kissed it, thinking of poor lost Nicholas. And then he went to find the finest sheets, to serve as his cousin’s shroud.

### Chapter Five

The next morning was only an hour or two away, but the night was at last quiet. Charles was gently snoring in the guest bedroom, which only seemed to underline the stillness. Mr Wilson had ridden away, saddened yet satisfied. Aidan lay cradled in the comforting earth, with beautiful cerise roses between him and the sky. Colin thought that perhaps his cousin would have chosen such a resting place, if he might – and it seemed so clear to him that Aidan had wanted and earned and even provoked his own death, that Colin knew his own grief and regret would not be tinged by fear or remorse.

‘Are you all right?’ Bradley murmured. They were sitting next together on the side of their bed, shoulders leaning into each other, letting the moonlight soothe them.

‘Yes,’ Colin murmured in reply. ‘This was a grievous business. But it was clean and honourable compared to poor Nicholas’s death. I wouldn’t wonder if the last decent thoughts in Aidan were that he wanted it thus.’

‘Good man. You are brave, Colin, and you are generous, and you see clearly. You understand people.’

‘Do I…? Why d’you say such a thing tonight?’

‘You’ve been very kind to me this past year.’

Colin laughed a little in surprise. ‘Well, I love you, Bradley. I love you more than… more than I have words to say. What else should I be to you but kind?’

Bradley pressed in close to whisper a kiss to Colin’s temple. ‘You have indulged me. You have pleasured me in ways I would hardly dare to ask for. I hardly knew myself. Yet _you_ knew, and you were kind and brave and generous and – thorough.’

‘Oh, my darling man… Of course I will do anything you like. There’s no question of that.’

Bradley lifted his arms around Colin to draw him closer, and Colin turned into the embrace, happy, so very happy, for all that he had. ‘I must leave again tomorrow,’ Bradley said sorrowfully.

‘Then let us make the most of our time together. I don’t need to sleep, if I have you.’ Colin kissed the man, and let his hand slide gently down to shape itself to the lovely curves of Bradley’s rear. He leaned back a little, bringing Bradley with him so that he could slip his hand further and graze his fingertips down the rear seam of Bradley’s trousers, down and then under, dragging his fingernails now so they teased across this most sensitive of flesh… ‘Come then, my darling,’ he murmured, before biting gently at Bradley’s earlobe. ‘Let me at you.’

‘No, I…’ Bradley struggled to maintain his independent balance, so that Colin fell back onto the bed while Bradley propped himself up over him with an arm full–length. ‘ _There_ : for once you misunderstand, but only because you are so generous. Last time – You were –’ Bradley was shy for a moment, but then he fought through. ‘You wanted me to do the possessing, and I denied you.’

‘But if _you_ don’t want to –’

‘A man would be a fool not to want to. At least to _try_. To try making you happy! And I suspect – Well, how could I not love it, too? I suspect this is as much for my sake as yours, so there’s no reason to be gazing up at me like that… I’m no saint, Colin Elliot!’

‘Oh, but I do _adore_ you, Bradley Wentworth…’

‘And I you,’ said Bradley, with quiet sincerity.

They looked at each other for a long moment. Just each looking peacefully at his love.

And then Colin’s fingers went to the buttons on his own shirt, the knot at his cravat, the buttons on his trousers, and then haphazardly back up to his waistcoat – all with too much haste to have much effect. ‘Come _on_ then, my darling man… Oh _God_ , how I want you!’

‘And I you,’ Bradley repeated. And then he was kneeling up on the bed, and discarding his uniform waistcoat with a lack of care only slightly mitigated by the remembrance that it was a darker shade of St Patrick’s blue, the colour of Colin’s eyes.

Bradley wasn’t within him yet, but they were pressed tight together, so near and so tight. Bradley was sitting back on his heels, with his knees together, and Colin was kneeling with his own thighs straddling his love’s and his rear snugly fitted into in Bradley’s lap, Bradley’s manhood pressing hard and hot up against his backbone. Bradley’s arms slipped around his waist and held him closer still with his hands splaying across Colin’s chest and stomach, and his head tucking in against Colin’s left shoulder–blade.

‘Please,’ said Colin. ‘Bradley, please.’ He put his hands down behind him and grasped Bradley’s hips. Tried to encourage them to action.

‘I thought of this – configuration – for me. But it will do – very nicely for you. You can control how far you let me in. You can simply lift up or move forward if you need to stop.’

‘Please. Don’t make me wait any longer, my darling.’ Colin’s own manhood was aching for attention, arching up into the cool night air.

‘I need –’ Bradley mumbled. ‘I need to get you ready. Use my fingers. To ease you.’

‘I didn’t do that for you, your first time.’

‘We didn’t know any better then, did we?’

‘But I want it that way. I want the first thing inside me to be – your – your cock.’

Bradley gasped a little, perhaps not expecting Colin to use such words. But all he said was, ‘I’ll hurt you.’

‘If you can bear it, I can. Please, my darling man. _Please._ ’

‘All right. All right.’ Bradley groaned a little – arched himself back, hollowing out his stomach, so they separated a little – then he took a hand away – dampness as he wet his fingers in his mouth and wiped them on his cockhead – as he reached up and around to slip fingers into Colin’s mouth – Colin moaned, and sucked on them, and swathed him with his tongue – his spit was transferred to join Bradley’s. ‘Are you ready? Are you still sure?’

‘Yes. _Yes._ ’

‘Come on, then. Lift yourself up. Let me – There. Can you feel that?’

‘Yes.’ His breath was coming harsh now, but he tried to keep quiet because he didn’t want to alarm Bradley. ‘Yes, oh _please._ ’

‘Ease yourself down a little, then. Let yourself go a little…’

Pressure – almost unbearable pressure – and it felt wrong, it felt as if there was no way in at all, as if there was nothing there but skin. ‘Is that right?’ he gasped. ‘Is that the place? It doesn’t seem –’

‘Yes, it’s right. Here – can you feel my fingertips? I promise it’s right. _Trust_ me, Colin. If you want this, let go and _trust_ me.’

‘Yes,’ he replied simply, ‘I want this.’ And he sighed, and let himself fall.

‘Careful! Oh my love – be careful.’

Then Colin cried out as Bradley broke through into him – they both cried out – and somehow the pain of it was better, far more bearable than the blunt pressure. ‘All right?’ he gasped.

‘Yes. _God_ yes. You?’

‘Yes!’ He sank down, deliberately pushed down again, he could feel Bradley inside him, Bradley panting damply against his shoulder, Bradley’s hands grasping him, Bradley hot and hard inside him – everything both rough and smooth, painful and wonderful – Colin bore down again, Bradley giving an agonised groan, he remembered how that felt, so tight a fit like a well–made glove a size too small – so hot and so slick – slick, yes, suddenly things were a little easier, and this time as he sank down with a gut–felt sigh, he felt Bradley’s thighs against his buttocks, he relaxed down onto them – and he was full, he was whole. ‘Bradley. Bradley!’

‘God yes. Colin. God. Not going to – So close already –’

‘I know – I know, my darling – fuck me now – fuck me –’

‘Colin! Your filthy mouth –’

‘You love my mouth –’

‘God yes, everything, I love _everything_ about you, I –’ Bradley clutched at Colin’s hips, and encouraged him to lift again. ‘God help me, I love your _arse_  –’

And Colin moaned, and lifted himself, and began a ragged pattern – and Bradley began thrusting up to meet him – and within moments Bradley was groaning a protest, and then his seed was pulsing up into Colin, and the way was eased perfectly, and they kept going messily beautifully, both of them sensitive and sore, moaning and muttering – until at last they mistimed a thrust and Bradley softly slipped and spilled out of him, and they collapsed forward onto the bed and simply held each other.

‘Whole. We are truly whole now.’

‘Yes, my darling. For now and for ever more.’

>  _Colin – my dearest friend –_
> 
>  _We have at last arrived safely at our destination. I still cannot tell you where we are, but the climes are warm and the sky is the most amazing shade of deep blue. I think they call the shade ‘azure’, which will perhaps convey something to you. One day I must bring you here so that you can see for yourself what I cannot quite describe._
> 
>  _I trust you are well. I think about you and about the home we share, so very frequently._
> 
>  _I was happy to hear that the Owens have finally agreed to young Percival attending school in Shrewsbury. You will remember that I was sceptical about your scheme at first – but you will be pleased to know that I have now come around to your way of thinking. Of course a man should be able to change and improve his lot in life, if he can. And so I have a further scheme to propose. If it meets with your approval, and Mrs Wentworth’s, I would like to invest my recent prize money – that I won in taking La Bonne Idée, an apt name if ever one could be – in a scholarship fund that will support young students from the village such as Percival. Mrs Wentworth will be the patroness, and with her you will decide who is to benefit and how best to make use of it. What do you think? Please, in any event, assure the Owens on my behalf that they will bear no untoward expenses themselves. I trust that you will approve of the scheme, and of Mrs Wentworth’s part in it. Indeed, I am sure you will be happy on that last point, as Emily has been such a very good friend to us, and she certainly deserves this small honour and much more besides._
> 
>  _You will understand that I can only pass on the small unimportant bits of news, and not the larger matters. I am currently breaking in a new steward. I was loath to let Young go, as we had rubbed along together so well for so long – but we were in sore need of a ship’s carpenter, and he was more than qualified for the post and keen to take it. Of course my own comforts came a poor second to the needs of the St Patrick when weighing up the advantages and disadvantages. He begs to be kindly remembered to you, and promises he will come by next time we are all ashore, to assist with the improvements you and I had planned._
> 
>  _Dempsie, I am to understand, is finally writing to you himself, so you will hear from him directly. As you promised, he is brave and fiercely loyal, which counts for so much more than occasional bouts of contrariness – even in the Navy._
> 
>  _The mail bag awaits only this letter, so I will sign off – taking one last moment to assure you of the unending affection of your friend,_
> 
>  _Bradley Wentworth_

 

>  _My dearest, truest, most generous friend, Bradley –_
> 
>  _How very happy you make me, with your talk of schemes and scholarships! It is a credit to your kind heart that you want to help not only my own dreams come true but those of people I care so much about. Thank you. From my heart and my soul and from everything I am – thank you._
> 
>  _Percival had another ghost story for us today. It was set in a part of London, where a series of inexplicable fires had each destroyed a house. And in the midst of the flames, a boy–child could be seen standing there, calling piteously for help. In response, quite naturally, some one or two persons would run into the fire to rescue him. They never survived. And yet it was always found afterwards that there were no children in the house, nor had been for many years._
> 
>  _A gruesome tale, of course, and yet I sat there smiling through it all, I sat there beaming like an idiot, because I had your letter with me, and I knew I would be sharing its contents with Percival and his parents once the day was done. They were so very grateful to you, especially Percival – you can guess how much so, even if your modesty then halves and quarters and eventually dismisses it altogether. Bradley, you are doing so fine a thing!_
> 
>  _Emily is utterly delighted, and so flattered that you would honour her in this way, and that you think her a useful part of the scheme. Thank you for that as well. I am sure you realise what a true friend she has become, and how very dear to me._
> 
>  _I have no other news, or if I do I can’t think of it, for my heart is brimming full._
> 
>  _Everything is peaceful and quiet in and around our home. There are no nettles here, but only roses. The most beautiful cerise and crimson roses under England’s delicate blue sky and pure white clouds. The soft warm breeze stirs me, and even though it is so gentle it reminds me of you and how fiercely you gaze at me when –_
> 
>  _Bradley, I am so very happy, that everything here reminds me of you. I love you so much, so very much that –_
> 
>  _That I am going to have to re–draft this letter, aren’t I…?_

 **FINIS**


End file.
